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THE LOST CITY 


OR 

THE BOY EXPLORERS IN CENTRAL ASIA 


I i L 

By DAVID KER 

i \ 



JHlustrateTi 



HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 

1885 



Copyright, 1884, by Harper & Brothers. 


All rights reserved. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. PAGB 

Across the Tartar Steppes 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Where Is It? 24 

CHAPTER III. 

A Turcoman Dinner-party in the Desert 38 

CHAPTER IV. 

Startling a King 53 

CHAPTER V. 

A Fight by Firelight 70 

CHAPTER VI. 

In a Robber Village 86 

CHAPTER VII. 

Afr Afghan Game of Forfeits . 100 


6 


Contents . 


CHAPTER VIII. page 

The Valley of Death 113 

CHAPTER IX. 

Lost on the Mountains 122 

CHAPTER X. 

Sikander’s News 131 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Lost City 143 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Bad Fix 155 


CHAPTER XIII. 

What was Written on the Pillar . 


164 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

A Game of Forfeits Frontispiece 

“Oyer We Go Again!” 13 

“Come Down, you Young Monkey!” "25 

A 

“Is it Peace?” 45 

He found Himself right oyer the Tent 67 

He opposed Himself singly to a Dozen of the Enemy . 81 

Carried Away to the Mountains 84 

The Poor Horse fell Headlong down the Precipice . 119 

‘'“Be a Thief!” 139 

Tom was Just within Range 145 


“ Good-morning, Mr. Professor; glad to see you Again” 169 







THE LOST CITY; 

OR, 

THE BOY EXPLORERS IN CENTRAL ASIA. 


Chapter I. 

ACROSS THE TARTAR STEPPES. 

“ Look out, boys ! over we go again !” 

Crash ! went the left wheel as he spoke, the 
wagon toppled over, and out into the ankle-deep 
dust flew two men and two boys, amid a kind 
of water-fall of bags, boxes, watermelons, revolv- 
ers, biscuits, flasks, and wisps of hay, all mingled 
together. 

The spot where this “ spill ” occurred looked 
like what it was — one of the most desolate and 
barbaric regions on the face of the earth. The 


io The Lost City; or , 

rising sun had already thrown a broad gleam of 
light upon the huge rounded slopes that rose on 
every side like the domes of a mosque, from 
which the morning mists were rolling off slowly 
and sullenly, as the smoke rising from a battle- 
field. But a floating depth of purple shadow 
still hovered over the endless level of the great 
plain below, clothed w T ith the short, yellowish 
grass of fdie Central Asian steppes, and a silence 
deep and solemn as the stillness of a newly cre- 
ated world brooded on earth and sky. 

The only sound that broke this universal hush 
was the muffled roar of a water-fall in the shad- 
owy depths of the gorge which the travellers had 
been skirting, following as best they might the 
windings of one of those breakneck bridle-paths 
w^hich pass for roads in Central Asia. On the 
brow of an overhanging cliff, just above the scene 
of the disaster, rose the low, round tower and mas- 
sive boundary wall of a genuine Eastern hill for- 
tress, in the shadow of whose pointed archway a 


II 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 

dozen gaunt, swarthy Cossacks, in white frocks 
and red goat-skin pants, lay sleeping side by side. 

The first of the overturned travellers to regain 
his feet was a small, wiry, black-haired lad of six- 
teen, in a white forage cap, linen jacket, and knee- 
high boots embroidered with green thread. His 
dark face wore the keen, self-reliant look of one 
used to find himself in difficult situations, and to 
get out of them by his own unaided courage and 
shrewdness. He chuckled as he helped up his 
comrade — a tall, good-looking young fellow, with 
light curly hair, who was looking ruefully at the 
handful of broken glass that he had just drawn 
from his watch-pocket. 

“ Never mind, Ernest, my boy; you’re lucky to 
get through any journey in this country without 
breaking your neck as well as your watch-glass. 
Ain’t that so, Bill ?” 

A grunt prefaced the reply of Bill — a big, 
square-built, powerful man, whose scarred cheek 
and slight limp would have shown that he had 


12 


The Lost City; or, 

“ smelled powder,” even if his hard, brick-red face, 
short, thick mustache, and stiff military upright- 
ness of bearing, had not stamped him unmistaka- 
bly as an English soldier. 

“That’s just the way with you Yankees, Mr. 
Tom ; you’ll talk agin a place fast enough your- 
selves, but let anybody else say a word, and 
you’re down on ’em directly. Now I’ll be bound 
we shall have you praising up this here country 
to-morrow again, just as if it wasn’t the most 
good-for-nothing hole that a man ever clapped 
eyes on. When it ain’t roastin’ you black, it’s 
a-blowin’ dust fit to put your eyes out ; and when 
it ain’t doin’ that, it’s rainin’. The very thunder, 
’stead of an honest round-mouthed peal like our 
own, makes a nasty jabbering tow, as if it was 
a-tryin’ to talk French; and the whole place is 
so precious flat that if you was to put your hat 
down and stand on it, you could see twenty miles 
round.” 

“Bravo, Bill!” cried Ernest; “you remind me 



u 


?” 


OVER WE GO AGAIN 




The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 15 

of Colonel Campbell’s story of the soldier who 
fell asleep on the march in India, and tumbling 
over a fallen tree as he was tramping on with his 
eyes shut, sang out, 1 1 say, boys, ain’t this a pre- 
cious country, where a man can’t have a quiet 
nap for half an hour without breaking his head !’” 

While they were speaking, the Tartar driver 
(who, having luckily fallen on his head, had nat- 
urally escaped unhurt) had rummaged out of the 
chaos a hatchet, a rope, and a strong piece of 
wood, indispensable articles upon any wagon 
journey either in Asiatic or European Russia. 
The fourth inside passenger, a tall, handsome, 
white-robed Afghan, who was looking as digni- 
fied and solemn as if he had not been sprawling 
head over heels a moment before, now stepped for- 
ward to assist in righting the wagon. The wheel 
was soon in its place again, and away they went.* 


* The Tartars are very handy in repairing accidents of this 
kind. I once lost a wheel in a night journey through the Khan- 


i6 


The Lost City ; or , 


“Cheer up, Bill!” laughed Ernest Clairmont; 
“your troubles will soon be over now. Tash- 
kent’s* * just over the hill, isn’t it, Tom ?” 

Sure enough, a few minutes later they crowned 
the highest ridge, and rattled down curve after 
curve of rough gravelly road into the great plain 
of Tashkent. The city itself was still hidden by 
a mass of dark, glossy leaves, but the increas- 
ing number of laden carts and donkeys, sunburnt 
horsemen, striding camels strung out in single 
file, and white-turbaned, blue-robed natives trudg- 
ing barefoot through the dust, with their little 
wallets at their backs, showed that it could not 
be far off. 

Suddenly a huge, tunnel-like archway yawned 
before them, in the cool shadow of which several 
bearded, swarthy fellows were munching lepeshM 

ate of Khokand, and within ten minutes we were going as 
fast as ever. 

* The capital of Russian Turkestan. Its name signifies 
“Stone Village.” — D. K. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 17 


(wheaten cakes) and slices of watermelon, while 
high overhead towered a massive rampart of sun- 
dried clay, standing out white and bare in the 
blistering sunshine. 

“ Tashkent !” shouted Tom Hilton, imitating 
the voice of a railway conductor; “all tickets 
ready, please !” 

They rattled up and down three or four nar- 
row, straggling, dirty streets, all exactly alike, 
scurried past General Kauffman’s beautiful little 
park, with its toy water-falls, trim shrubberies, 
and steep, central. ridge, crowned with the pavil- 
ion set apart for the military band, and pulled 
up at length before a small door in a high, mud 
wall. It ojDened at their first knock, and a long, 
lean, sallow Cossack greeted Tom with a military 
salute and a joyful grin. 

“ Gday otetz moi, Vaska ?” (where’s my father, 
Basil?) asked Tom, shaking hands with him 
heartily. 

“Vot on prikhodit, Phoma Yakovitch” (here 


1 8 N The Lost City ; or ; 

he comes, Thomas son of James), answered the 
Cossack, pointing to a fine -looking man in the 
uniform of a Russian Colonel of Engineers, but 
with America clearly written in every line of his 
firm, intelligent face and tall, sinewy figure, who 
came striding across the smooth greensward to 
meet them. 

“ Welcome home, lads!” cried Colonel Hilton 
(for he it was), holding out a hand to each ; “I’ve 
got all ready for you inside. Ernest, my dear 
boy, I’m very glad to have you back again ; you 
know your father was my oldest friend.” 

“And as brave an officer and as kind a gentle- 
man as you’d find in the whole British army,” 
broke in Bill Barlow. “ I was beside him, you 
know, Colonel, when them Afghan blackguards 
knocked him over; and he says to you, says he, 
‘ Jim, be a father to my boy,’ and you says to 
him, says you, ‘ I will, Harry, so help me Cod !’ 
And so you have, Colonel ; and I’d like to see the 
man as dare deny it.” 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 19 

“ Now, boys,'” said the Colonel, when our he- 
roes had done full justice to the good breakfast 
spread for them in a tent in the garden, “ I’m sor- 
ry I can’t go around with you to-day, for I’ve got 
about a dozen Russian officers coming to see me 
on business, one after the other; so, Tom, you’ll 
have to pilot Ernest about the town yourself. I 
dare say you’ll be able to show him something 
worth seeing.” 

The prophecy was soon fulfilled. To the un- 
travelled English boy, fresh from his Rugby school 
life and the jog-trot civilization of England, every- 
thing that he saw in this outlandish region seemed 
wonderful beyond belief: camels walking about 
the streets just like horses at home ; Afghan chiefs 
swaggering about with a whole arsenal of pistols 
and daggers in their red, silken sashes; brawny 
Sarts, with bulging skins of water poised on their 
bare, brown shoulders; full-sized melons going at 
three cents each, and magnificent grapes at one 
cent a pound; sheets of wheaten bread, large 


20 


The Lost City ; or, 

enough for a man to lie down upon, being rolled 
up and carried off; women wrapped in gauze 
bed-curtains, so closely as to leave nothing visible 
but their eyes; gaunt, wild-eyed Turkomans in 
sheep - skin caps, looking covetously at the em- 
broidered uniforms of the Russian officers; and 
swarthy Jews, in long dark robes, high, black, 
funnel-shaped hats, and broad yellow girdles. 

Even the wagon that carried them was a suffi- 
cient curiosity in itself, consisting merely of one 
huge beam on which they sat astride. They had 
quite enough to do to hold on while this queer 
conveyance bumped and jolted along the uneven 
streets, now plunging into a rut almost as deep 
as a ditch, now rattling down a steep incline, now 
flying around a sharp corner, with such a jerk 
that they seemed to be shooting bodily off into 
space, while their Tartar hackman, with a glow 
of excitement on his greenish, narrow-eyed, beard- 
less face, flourished his whip and screamed like 
a madman. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 21 

But Ernest’s delight rose higher still when, 
quitting their conveyance, they tramped across 
the bridge spanning the deep, narrow gully which 
separates the old town from the new. To him 
the neat stores and smart public buildings, the 
spacious squares and leafy boulevards of the 
“Russian quarter,” seemed quite commonplace 
compared with the straggling, ditch-like, rubbish- 
choked streets, the flat-roofed, mud-walled hovels, 
the swarm of gay-colored robes and monkey-like 
faces that filled the “ Tartar town ” And when 
they at length came upon a real mosque, with real 
domes and minarets, and a wide-paved court-yard 
before it (enclosing a small tank, beside which a 
dozen gayly dressed Mohammedans were smoking, 
or drinking “ brick- tea,” with mutton fat in it in- 
stead of milk), his exultation knew no bounds. 

But his attention was suddenly attracted by 
mingled outcries close at hand, and the rising of 
a thick cloud of smoke, reddened with flame, 

above the roofs of the surrounding houses. 

2 


22 The Lost City ; or , 

“I say!” cried he, starting, “that must be a 
fire !” 

“ To be sure it is,” answered Tom, coolly; “ we 
have one here almost every day. Come along 
and look at it.” 

A few steps round the corner brought them 
to the spot. A pile of grass spread to dry on 
the flat roof of a house, according to Central 
Asian custom, had caught fire, and was sending 
up a blaze which, but for the perfect stillness of 
the air, would speedily have run along the whole 
street, every roof being covered with heaps of 
grass as dry as tinder. Even as it was, a single 
spark might at any moment kindle a general 
conflagration, and Tom’s quick eye saw at once 
that there was not an instant to lose. 

“Come along, Ernest,” cried he; “let’s pull 
down that next heap before it catches. Here 
goes !” 

So saying, he vaulted like an acrobat upon the 
shoulders of a big native who stood close to the 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 23 

wall, and before the astounded man had time to 
open his mouth, scrambled off him on to the pro- 
jecting corner of the roof, where he was seen the 
next moment flinging down huge armfuls of grass 
on the heads of the crowd. 

But before Ernest could follow, a heave of the 
throng pushed him close to a tall man in a rich 
robe of crimson silk, with a dark, high -boned 
Persian face, who was forcing his way through 
the press as if he were some great man, letting 
fall his heavy whip, just as Ernest reached him, 
on the bare shoulders of a poor old Tartar crip- 
ple, who screamed with pain. 

“ Leave the poor fellow alone !” shouted Clair- 
mont ; “ don’t you see he’s a cripple ?” 

For all answer the Persian struck at Clairmont 
himself ; but this was an unlucky move. Ernest 
seized the uplifted arm with one hand, while he 
planted the other (little dreaming what that blow 
was to cost him) full in his enemy’s lean, wolfish 
face, sending him reeling against the wall. 



Chapter II. 

WHERE is IT? 

Regaining his feet with a howl of fury, the 
Persian drew his long Tchdnjar (dagger). But 
just then the two combatants were driven apart 
by a sudden movement of the crowd, as it open- 
ed to make way for a dozen sallow, hard-faced, 
white-frocked Russian soldiers, who came tramp- 
ing steadily on, headed by a tall officer in uni- 
form, in whom Ernest recognized Colonel Hilton 
himself. 

“ Come down out of that !” shouted the Colo- 
nel, as one of the bunches of grass flung from 
the roof by his energetic son hit him full in 
the face. “ Come down, you young monkey, and 
don’t go burying your own father before he’s 
dead !” 



“ COME DOWN, YOU YOUNG MONKEY !” 















































The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 27 

“Is that you , father?” cried Tom. “Stand 
clear below, boys ; I’m coming.” 

He leaped from the roof as he spoke, but the 
Russian grenadiers, with whom he seemed to be 
a prime favorite, caught him in their arms with 
a loud cheer, just as Ernest elbowed his way 
through the crowd to join them. The Persian 
had vanished; but Ernest afterwards remember- 
ed, with good reason, that his enemy’s last glance 
rested not on him, but on Colonel Hilton, with a 
glare of mingled rage, fear, and hatred worthy of 
a wounded tiger. 

The Colonel’s party were not long in making 
their presence felt. While one of the soldiers 
clambered on to the flaming roof, and tore down 
the blazing grass with his bare hands, as un- 
concernedly as if he were only tossing hay, the 
rest formed a chain to the tank at the entrance 
of the street, and passing buckets nimbly from 
hand to hand, soon put an end to the fire. In 
less than a quarter of an hour all was over, and 


28 


The Lost City ; or, 


the Colonel, having dismissed his men, had lei- 
sure to hear Ernest’s story, over which he looked 
very grave indeed. 

“You couldn’t well have done anything but 
what you did, my boy ; but I’m sorry you have 
quarrelled with that fellow, Kara-Goorg, for he’s 
the most spiteful rascal I know. He owes me a 
grudge for a lesson I gave him some years ago, 
and he’s one that’ll stick at nothing to get square 
with anybody that he’s got a spite against. Un- 
luckily, he’s very useful to the Russian govern- 
ment as a spy, and is always being sent on secret 
missions into Afghanistan ; so, as he can’t be got 
rid of, you’d better take care and not get in his 
way again, for he’d think no more of cutting your 
throat than of slicing a melon.” 

“ So I shall, most certainly,” said Ernest, rather 
startled at this specimen of the ways of his new 
home. 

“ And now, boys,” resumed the Colonel, “before 
I go on to the citadel, which was what I was do* 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 29 

ing when I met you, we’d better have something 
to eat The Great Bazar’s close by, and there 
we can get a real Tartar lunch.” 

A few minutes later, after fighting their way 
through a jumble of dust, dirt, camels, donkeys, 
prowling dogs, horrible smells, black -browed 
Bokhariots, long-nosed Persians, pudding -faced 
Tartars, baboon-like Sarts, and fat, yellow-bearded 
Bussian merchants, they found themselves in a 
long, narrow, dirty passage, roofed with tattered 
matting, and flanked on either side by queer lit- 
tle narrow-mouthed stores, very much like over- 
grown rat-traps, and crammed with goods of 
every kind, from Bussian tea-urns to Persian 
carpets and Chinese slippers. 

Through this chaos the Colonel cleft his way 
without a halt, turning a deaf ear to the scream- 
ing salutations of the native tradesmen, till he 
reached a large empty booth, in one corner of 
which a queer little half-clad Tartar, brown and 
shrivelled as an over-fried sausage, was stooping 


30 


The Lost City ; or , 


over a round black opening in the ground, very 
muck like a tiny coal-hole. 

“Sotnya pilmenn” (a measure of dumplings), 
cried the Colonel, stepping in. 

The Tartar replied by fishing up from his 
“ coal-hole” (which was really a native oven) a 
copper pan filled with tiny balls of greasy dough, 
not much bigger than a good-sized marble. These 
he emptied into a wooden bowl, poured over 
them a brimming ladleful of melted fat, and then, 
handing to each of his three customers, who had 
squatted themselves upon a sheet of gray felt at 
the back of the booth, a sharp-pointed chip of 
wood like a monster toothpick, signed to them 
to begin eating. 

Ernest, rather puzzled how to do so, watched 
his two companions, and seeing that they were 
spearing the dumplings with their chips, and 
swallowing them after first dipping them in the 
hot grease, he followed their example. 

“Chopped meat and onions, seemingly,” re- 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 31 

marked lie, after his first mouthful, “ and not bad 
stuff either. I wonder what meat it is ?” 

“ Better not be too curious about that, Ernie,” 
said Tom Hilton, with a grin; “it don’t do to 
ask what things are made of in this country. 
You remember what the Highland gamekeeper 
said of his master’s shooting : ‘ The more said, the 
less the better.’ ” 

The novelty of making a real Tartar meal out 
of the same dish with two other people made 
Ernest eat pretty heartily, but he was somewhat 
startled to hear that he and his companions 
had eaten thirty-six dumplings among them, and 
still more so to see that the total cost of the 
entertainment was only thirty kopecks (twenty 
cents). 

“Living’s cheap here, it seems,” laughed he. 
“ If I ever lose all my money, which isn’t very 
likely while you have the charge of it, father, I 
shall come and settle in Tashkent.” 

“You might do worse,” answered his adopted 


32 


The Lost City ; or , 


father; “but I dare say you’ll have queerer fare 
than this when you go soldiering in India, as 
I suppose you will some day, since your own 
father wished it. Well, boys, I must be off now ; 
but I’ll be home about five o’clock, and we’ll have 
a snug evening all to ourselves.” 

But that evening was destined to be more 
eventful than he imagined. They were still sit- 
ting over their after-dinner coffee in the Colonel’s 
cozy little parlor, and Ernest was wondering to 
see, in the heart of this region of mosques, tur- 
bans, and camels, photographic albums, copies of 
the Graphic and the New York Herald , prints 
from the Illustrated London News, and engrav- 
ings from the pictures of Frith and Landseer, 
when suddenly a shrill, chirping voice was heard 
outside the door, at the first sound of which 
Colonel Hilton sprang up and hurried out. 

“ Ha, Pavel Petrovitch !” (Paul son of Peter) 
“ is this really you ? Why, your last letter was 
dated from Moscow, and I never thought of see- 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 33 

ing you again this year. Come in, come in ; I’m 
very glad to see you.” 

The next moment the Colonel re-entered with 
a little man in a brown coat, whom he introduced 
as Professor Makaroff. 

Ernest started as if he had been shot. Hav- 
ing seen this famous explorer’s name celebrated 
in every leading English journal for exploits as 
daring as those of Stanley or Colonel Gordon, he 
had pictured to himself a grim, bearded, sun- 
browned giant, with a revolver at every button- 
hole. The man he now saw was a thin, pale- 
faced, quiet little fellow, with a voice like the 
piping of a canary, and no sign of a weapon any- 
where about him. 

“ I see you’re wondering why I’ve come,” said 
the Professor, when the first greetings were over. 

“ The fact is, our Imperial Geographical Society y 
has offered a reward for the discovery of the lost 
city of Margilian, over the existence of which you 
and I used to fight so last year, and I’m now 


34 


The Lost City ; or , 

hoping to settle our dispute once for all by find- 
ing the place myself.” 

“ Have you any fresh information on the sub- 
ject, then?” asked the Colonel, beginning to feel 
interested. 

“I have indeed. A few weeks ago Hadji 
Murad (that Bokhariot trader, you remember, 
with whom I travelled along the border of Thibet 
in ’75) sent me word that one of his Tartars had 
just come in from the Tien Shan,* telling a very 
strange story. He had got lost among the moun- 
tains, and wandered about for two days, until 
his food was spent and his strength almost gone, 
when all at once he espied a passage among the 
rocks, cut as smooth and even as a railway. He 
followed it for more than a verst (two-thirds of a 
mile), and suddenly found himself in a vast open 
space, right in front of a great stone temple, with 


* Celestial Mountains — the range between Western China 
and Asiatic Russia. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 35 

a row of tall pillars, around which lay the ruins 
of many other buildings. But just then a huge 
shadowy figure rose from the brow of the cliff 
overhead, and waved one hand as if warning him 
back, while with the other hand he pushed over 
a great rock that almost crushed the poor Tartar, 
who fled in terror, and was picked up half faint- 
ing by a party of Khokandese merchants at the 
foot of a precipice.” 

“And you really believe all that?” asked Hil- 
ton, with a sly smile. 

“ I believe it so much that I telegraphed Murad 
to offer the man a thousand rubles” ($750) “to 
guide me to the spot, but it seems he’s so fright- 
ened that no money can tempt him to venture 
again.” 

“ Or, in other words, he don’t care to hunt for 
a place which never existed except in his own 
romancing stories.” 

“ Gently, gently, friend. With the exception 
of the shadowy giant (who was probably a dust- 


36 


The Lost City ; or , 

cloud raised by a falling stone), his tale exactly 
fits my theory. It is well known that the turn- 
ing-point of Alexander the Great’s march upon 
China was the present site of Khodjent, and that 
he left there a colony of his soldiers. What is 
more natural than that, finding themselves with- 
in too easy range of the natives on that smooth 
plain, they should have retreated into the moun- 
tains, and built another city there ? That they 
must have done so is proved by the existence of 
the modern town of Marghilan, which stands on 
the border of the very district where I suppose 
the lost city to be. Marghilan is obviously a 
corruption of Margilian, and thus it follows — ” 
And so on for another half-hour. 

“I say, Ernie,” whispered Tom, “wouldn’t it 
be gay if we could hunt out the place ourselves, 
and get there before the Professor ?” 

The suggestion haunted Ernest that night even 
in his sleep. He dreamed that he was a special 
correspondent with the army of Alexander the 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 37 

Great, taking notes with the point of an Egyptian 
obelisk, which kept breaking off at every other 
word. Alexander pointed to a distant tree, and 
bade him pick a better pencil from those which 
grew on it. But as he approached, the tree 
changed into his Persian enemy of the morning, 
who seized and hurled him into the Oxus with " 
such a tremendous splash that he awoke, and 
found that he had fallen out of bed into his cold 
bath. 




A TURCOMAN DINNER-PARTY IN THE DESERT. 

‘‘Ernest Clairmont, Afghanistan, to Robert 
Hawkins, Rugby, sendeth greeting, this twenty- 
sixth day of August, 1879. 

“Dear Bob, — We’re in Afghanistan at last, 
and a funny place it is. By this time you’ll have 
got my last letter, telling how Tom Hilton met 
me at Orenburg (the border town of Russia, you 
know), and how we went together across the des- 
ert, past the Aral Lake, and up the Jaxartes to 
Tashkent. It’s not the Jaxartes now, though, for 
the natives call it ‘ Syr-Daria,’ or Clean River, I 
suppose because it’s the dirtiest river I ever set 
eyes on. 

“Little enough did I ever think, old fellow, 
when you and I used to grind over Alexander’s 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 39 

crossing of the Jaxartes and the Oxus, that I 
should cross them myself some day ; but I’ve seen 
queerer things than that since I started. What 
do you think of our coming to a bit of desert x 
where all the people were living in holes under 
the earth ? To see their heads popping up out 
of the ground like rabbits to look at us was the 
most comical sight you can imagine. 

“ We ought to be in Cabool the day after to- 
morrow, and then I’ll have a chance of seeing 
what an Afghan capital is like. It’s great fun 
going about in these out-of-the-way places, and 
seeing for one’s self all the queer people that one 
used to read about and see pictures of at home. 
You remember how we thought Gibbon was 
stretching it, rather, when he said that the Tar- 
tars had no beards. Well, it’s as true as can be; 

I was in among a whole camp of them the other 
day, and there wasn’t a single beard among the 
lot! 

“ At first I felt just as if I’d been making friends 
3 


40 


The Lost City ; or , 

with a herd of monkeys; for really, with their 
long arms and low foreheads, and small, narrow 
eyes, and heads as round as skittle-balls, and flat 
noses and big mouths (to say nothing of their 
greasy cloaks of camel’s-hair or sheep-skin), they 
might have gone right into a menagerie just as 
they were. But they received us very civilly, 
and gave me some Jcumyss (fermented mare’s 
milk), which tasted something like ginger-beer. 
Tom says it’s sold in New York now, and that 
the people there take it as medicine. And then 
the old khan — who must have been made chief 
of the tribe on the strength of his being the ug- 
liest man in it — kindly invited me to sit down 
upon a newly flayed sheep-skin, with the bloody 
side uppermost. Out of respect for my white 
cotton trousers, I 1 declined with thanks,’ as the 
editor of the Bugby Messenger did with my first 
poem. 

“ But all this while I am forgetting to tell you 
what brings us here. The Bussians are sending 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 41 

an envoy to persuade the new Ameer of Afghan- 
istan, Yakoob Khan, into doing something they 
want, and Colonel Hilton’s going with him to 
back him np and see fair play. We’ve got an- 
other passenger, too, who’s the best fun of all — 
that jolly old Russian Professor, who is hunting 
for the Lost City, and who thinks Cabool a like- 
ly point for his start in search of it, especially as 
he expects to get a guide there who knows the 
whole country by heart. 

“ Talking of Afghans, they must be a queer lot 
if they’re all like those we’ve seen. Every man 
you meet looks as if he were pining for a chance 
of cutting your throat; and when I asked the 
Colonel what was the meaning of a lot of small 
round towers of dried mud, with one little hole 
in the side, which were dotted all over the plains, 
he told me they were for the people of the country 
to creep into whenever they saw robbers coming.* 


* This is true also of Southern Afghanistan, where I passed 
more than a dozen of these towers within a few miles. — D. K. 


42 


The Lost City ; or, 


“ However, our Afghan groom, Sikander (Alex- 
ander), is as good a fellow as ever stepped ; and 
it’s great fun to hear him and old Bill Barlow 
arguing about the Afghan war. Bill, being an 
English soldier, is all for drill and precision, and 
thinks it too bad that the Afghans didn’t ‘come 
fairly out and fight in reg’lar horder of battle, 
like men.’ Then Sikander laughs, and asks what’s 
the sense of coming out and getting shot, when 
you can hit your man from behind a rock or a 
tree without showing yourself at all. Then old 
Bill grunts that that’s work for weasels, not for 
men ; and so they go on by the hour. The other 
night I found Bill trying to explain to Sikander 
what a railway was like, and setting up a row of 
stones to represent the train. The Afghan lis- 
tened very attentively till it came to the laying 
of the rails, and then he said the English magi- 
cians must be very foolish to trouble about lay- 
ing down a road for their enchanted cars, when 
they could just as easily make them fly through 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 43 

the air ; after which Bill gave him up as a bad 
job. However, they’re always capital friends, for 
all that. 

“And now for the best part of my story. While 
we were crossing the steppes before we got down 
to the Oxus we had an extra long march one day 
to reach a little stream beside which we meant 
to camp for the night, for in Central Asia, I can 
tell you, the first thing you think of is to keep 
within reach of water. It was late in the evening 
before we got to it, but as we came over a low 
swell of land that overlooked it, what should we 
see below but a dozen fires twinkling through 
the dusk. We also heard a sound of men talk- 
ing, and horses neighing, and camels snorting and 
screeching, as if there were a regular camp there. 

“We were rather taken aback, as you may sup- 
pose, but we hadn’t long to think over it. The 
moment we were seen on the brow of the slope 
there was a great bustle and shouting in the 
camp, and up jumped from beside the nearest fire 


44 


The Lost City ; or , 


some twenty wild-looking fellows with long guns 
in their hands, whose dark faces, and gleaming 
eyes, and sharp, white teeth, with the red glare 
of the fire upon them, made as grim a show as 
any ‘ brave of the Delawares ’ in Fenimore Cooper. 

“Another moment and we would all have been 
firing and hacking away at each other without 
knowing why, for every stranger is an enemy 
in the desert. But in the very nick of time the 
Colonel snatched a lance from one of our Cos- 
sacks, tied a white scarf to it, and rode forward 
single-handed to meet them. 

“‘Amaun ust?’ (is it peace?) he called out, as 
soon as he was near enough to be heard. 

“‘Insh’ Allah, amaun ust’ (please God, it is 
peace), answered the foremost fellow, and the 
Colonel went up and shook hands with him. 
They talked together for a minute or two, and 
then back came the Colonel, bringing the whole 
crowd along with him. There was another little 
talk, and then they bade us \yelcome, and told us 





“is it peace?” 


i 
























































































































































































































































































The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 47 

(as it’s the correct thing to do here) that all they 
had was ours, though I don’t much think they’d 
have approved of it if we’d taken ’em at their 
word. 

“ It seems they were a band of Turcomans on 
the lookout for fresh pasture for their beasts, 
and they had camped here only a few hours be- 
fore we came up; so when they saw us they 
thought we were another party coming to drive 
them away. But everything was soon explained, 
and in half an hour we had our tents pitched and 
our horses picketed right in the middle of their 
camp ; and the last thing I heard before I fell 
asleep was a Turcoman sentinel howling out an 
endless native song, while his voice sounded just 
like a dog shut out on a cold night. 

“The next morning I wanted to go out and 
look about me, but the Colonel stopped me, say- 
ing that we must stay in the tent till they came 
to invite us out, or they wouldn’t think anything 
of us at all. And so it proved ; for suddenly the 


48 


The Lost City ; or. 


tent flap was lifted, and there stood two tall, fine- 
looking Turcomans, in high caps of black sheep- 
skin, one with a wheaten cake in his hands, and 
the other with an earthen jar of milk. 

“ ‘ Peace be with you, my lords,’ said the fore- 
most. ‘Thus saith Hadji Yussuf’ (Pilgrim Jo- 
seph), ‘ Chief of the Black Turcomans : Let the 
messenger of the great Czar, and the other Ooroo- 
so (Russian) princes, be pleased to light up with 
their presence the tent of a Turcoman warrior.’ 

“‘The messenger of the great Czar may not 
cross any threshold save that of the Ameer him- 
self,’ answered the Colonel, quite majestically, 
‘ but the ears of the Russian princes are open to 
the fair words of Hadji Yussuf. Let the chief of 
many warriors send us camels, that our feet may 
not soil his threshold with the desert sand.’ 

“So saying he dipped a piece of the cake in 
the milk and sw T allowed it, after which the wor- 
thy savages retired, looking very much impressed. 
In about half an hour they came back with two 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 49 

camels, and the Colonel and Professor Makaroff 
mounted one, while Tom and I got upon the 
other, lying at opposite ends of a big, wooden 
tray girthed on the beast’s back. When it first 
started I felt as if I were being rolled about in 
my berth by a squall in the Bay of Biscay ; but 
I very soon got used to it. 

“We found the chief (a grand old fellow with 
a long white beard) sitting cross-legged on a car- 
pet in a big tent of gray felt. We all kicked off 
our shoes on going in, and the Colonel laid his 
sabre at the chiefs feet to show that he meant no 
harm. The old gentleman received us very po- 
litely, and ordered in several huge wooden bowls 
of tea. One sip was enough for me, for what with 
salt instead of sugar, and rancid mutton fat in- 
stead of milk, it was the nastiest stuff I ever 
tasted. 

“ Then the old fellow drew up the tent flap, 
and told us to seat ourselves in the door-way. 
We had hardly sat down when there came a yell 


50 


The Lost City ; or , 


that made us all jump, and a dozen horsemen 
came tearing out from among the tents, as if fly- 
ing for their lives, with twenty more in full cry 
after them, firing their rifles and yelling like mad. 
Suddenly the hunted men wheeled round and 
came back upon their pursuers like a thunder- 
bolt; and in a moment they were all mixed up 
together in a whirl of dust and smoke, stabbing, 
hacking, slashing, and pounding with the butt- 
ends of their pieces, the spear-heads glittering, 
the swords flashing, and the very horses kicking 
and biting most ferociously. I began to feel for 
my revolver, thinking the camp was attacked; 
but Tom whispered to me that it was only a 
sham fight, got up to entertain us. 

“ But the show of the day was the concluding 
dinner — twelve courses at least, and everybody 
expected to eat heartily of each. You remember 
Billy Guttleton eating seventeen jam tarts at 
a sitting? Well, any of these Turcoman fellows 
would do that just to get up an appetite before 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 51 

the real dinner came on at all. I had to keep ray 
eye on a fellow opposite me, to make sure that 
he wasn’t stuffing it all into a leathern bag inside 
his clothes, like Jack the Giant-killer. 

a First came a kind of soup of milk and bitter 
herbs, not at all the sort of stuff for a rough day 
at sea. Then followed little square blocks of 
roast meat served on wooden skewers, succeeded 
by a mess of rice and mutton fat thick and heavy 
enough to choke an elephant, which the old chief 
scooped out of the bowl with his fingers, and 
crammed into my mouth. Nine or ten other 
dishes followed, among which Tom declared that 
he recognized camel ; but I hope he was mistaken, 
for in this country they only eat such as have 
died of old age or disease. When I got up to go 
I felt as if I weighed a thousand pounds; and 
that night I dreamed I was a balloon, just going 
to burst from being overfilled with gas. 

“ But I must break off, for it’s getting dark, 
and here comes Sikander to announce supper. If 


52 


The Lost City . 


you ever get this, which I doubt, for the Tartar 
who carries it may very likely be shot on the 
way, reply soon, and believe me, yours truly, 

“E. Claikmont.” 




Chapter IV. 

STARTLING A KING. 

“ Tom, I feel as if there were something wrong 
here, somehow.” 

Ernest had been very quiet for some moments, 
and a boy of his age is not often quiet for any 
length of time unless something has made rather 
a strong impression upon him. His companion 
had clearly shared his misgivings, for he replied 
almost at once : 

“Well, old fellow, I wouldn’t have said that 
first, for fear you should laugh at me ; but now 
that yovUve said it, I must confess I feel pretty 
bad myself, though I don’t know why.” 

Our heroes were looking down from the bal- 
cony of a lofty Eastern house upon the motley 


54 


The Lost City ; or , 

crowd that eddied through one of the principal 
streets of Cabool, in which they had spent just 
three days, when this conversation took place. 
So far, at least, they had nothing to complain of. 
They were lodged in a fine house in one of the 
best quarters of the city, not far from the Ameer’s 
own palace. They had been shown over the for- 
tifications of the Bala-Hissar (citadel) by the 
Afghan commandant in charge of it. They had 
been presented to Major Cavagnari, the resident 
agent of the English government, who received 
them with frank, soldier - like cordiality, and 
laughingly hoped that their quality as attaches 
to a Russian mission would not prevent their 
giving him the pleasure of their company to 
dinner. 

Every one, in fact, had been as hospitable and 
friendly as possible; but neither the universal 
kindness shown to them, nor the wonderful pan- 
orama of new costumes and new faces that met 
them at every turn, nor the quaint barbaric pict- 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 55 

uresqueness of the ancient city itself, could wholly 
banish the dim, haunting sense of coming evil, 
which (little inclined as either of them was to 
trouble himself about such fancies) weighed 
upon them more than they would have cared 
to own. 

“I think it must be what my father told us 
about this old place that makes us feel bad,” said 
Tom Hilton, after a pause. “You remember 
that yarn he spun us at Tashkent, how, when the 
English army was here in 1841, the Afghans rose 
all of a sudden and massacred them; and how 
poor old Burnes and Macnaghten, and a lot of 
the officers, were brought into the palace under 
promise of safeguard, and then Akbar Khan’s 
crowd broke in and murdered ’em all. Of course 
that took place a long time ago. Everything is 
different now, and it can never happen again; 
but still it isn’t nice to think of, is it ?” 

“No,” said Ernest, “and so I vote we dovlt 
think of it. Let’s start out for a walk, and see 


56 


The Lost City ; or , 

if we can find that tomb of Baber,* which they 
talk so much about. Erskine’s history says it 
stands on a low hill somewhere out yonder, about 
a mile from the town. Come along.” 

Aw^ay they went accordingly, elbowing their 
way through the crowd that filled the narrow, 
dusty lanes of the city. During the day it would 
have been a very easy matter for them to make 
their way along, but as the hour of sunset and 
of leaving off business approached, the highways 
became more and more crowded. Parties going 
in different directions would meet and jostle each 
other, and at times the boys had no little diffi- 
culty to avoid becoming separated. 

Hitherto, in order to avoid any risk of los- 
ing their way or getting into trouble, the two 
lads had never gone out unattended by the 
Colonel’s Afghan servant, Sikander. But to-day 

* Baber, the great-grandson of the Tartar Emperor Timour, 
conquered Northern India in 1526, and founded the empire 
of the Great Mogul. He died in 1530. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 57 

Sikander was absent, no one knew where, and 
our heroes, not caring to wait until he came back, 
decided upon trying to find their way for them- 
selves. 

As they went along, almost every step brought 
before them some object whicli if seen in London 
or New York would have gathered a bigger crowd 
than any circus. Here a huge bony fellow from 
the deserts of Beloochistan swaggered past, with 
his short curved sword at his side, and his coarse 
black hair twisted into greasy curls which strag- 
gled from under his white turban over his long, 
loose frock. There a tall, fierce-looking Afghan 
in a pointed red cap, with the scar of an English 
bullet across his brown cheek, stood bargaining 
for an embroidered scarf with a grave, dark-robed, 
high-cheeked Persian from Mesliid. 

A leper, holding out a fingerless hand with a 
whining petition for alms, was all but trampled 
on by a laden camel which came striding up the 
street, led by a half-clad Turcoman as lean and 
4 


58 


The Lost City ; or ; 

brown and shaggy as itself. The next moment 
a skinny Kashgariu, from beneath whose little 
saucer -shaped cap his huge bat -like ears stuck 
out a full inch on either side of his thin, narrow, 
squeezed - looking face, was rudely thrust aside by 
a ragged, wild-eyed dervish (religious devotee), 
who scowled at our heroes in passing, and mut- 
tered some polite remark about “ Christian dogs.” 

Crossing three or four small watercourses which 
zigzagged among the rich level green fields out- 
side the town, the boys at length reached the 
Hill of Burial. Baber’s tomb sorely disappoint- 
ed the enthusiastic Ernest, who could hardly be- 
lieve that the two upright slabs of plain white 
marble could really be the sole memorial of a 
man whose name had shaken all Asia like a 
thunder-clap. But the surrounding view amply 
repaid him. From the summit of the hill (which 
was crowned with a small mosque of polished 
marble, inscribed “ Heaven eternal is the abode 
of Sultan Baber ”) he looked down upon a wide 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 59 

green plain more than twenty miles broad. Tiny 
streams wound their way along, and here and 
there the broad expanse was dotted with native 
forts and villages. 

In the midst of all, outspread in the glory of 
the sunset, lay the great white city itself, with its 
endless panorama of flat-roofed houses, and shin- 
ing domes, and tall, tapering minarets, framed in 
a dark circle of leafy gardens. High above it, 
on a bold rocky bluff, loomed the huge gray wall 
of the citadel. Far to the north the snowy crests 
of the distant mountains glimmered faintly along 
the darkening sky, while on the west and south 
rose bare, stony heights. Little could the boys 
have imagined that, a few months later, upon 
these very heights, the best soldiers of Britain 
were to fight a four hours’ battle for life and 
death against ten times their number of Afghans. 

The hill itself — down the sloping side of which 
a little rivulet went dancing and sparkling to 
join the Cabool River below — was one mass of 


6o 


The Lost City ; or , 

green herbage and brilliant flowers, amid which 
the white tombstones stood out every here and 
there. Beneath the overshadowing trees numer- 
ous groups of holiday-makers — some from the 
surrounding villages, others from Cabool itself 
— were already seated, puffing their long pipes, 
sipping coffee or sherbet, and enjoying the cool 
of the evening; and the gay-colored robes and 
turbans, glancing through the dark leaves or 
scattered over the grass, made the place look (as 
Tom Hilton remarked with a grin) “ like Central 
Park on a Sunday afternoon.” 

“Except that there are no ladies here,” sug- 
gested Ernest. “How is it that one never sees 
a woman in this part of the world? What do 
they do with themselves? Don’t they ever go 
out to take the air or do any shopping like the 
women in our own country ?” 

“No, they're all locked up at home; and my 
cousin, Nellie Parsons, wffio’s a missionary in the 
north of India, says they keep ’em just as close 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia. 61 

there as here. She’d all the work iii the world 
awhile ago to get one of her Hindoo friends to 
let her take his wife for a drive, and even then 
he was so horrified at the whole proceeding he 
would only let her go in a close carriage ” 

So amused were our heroes with all they saw 
that they never noticed how fast the sun was 
sinking until it plunged out of sight behind the 
western hills. 

“ Halloo !” cried Ernest, starting to his feet ; 
“hurry up, Tom, for we’ll never find our way 
back in the dark.” 

“ Never fear,” replied Tom, confidently ; “ there’s 
light enough left yet, if we step out lively.” 

But however lively they stepped out, darkness 
had fairly set in before they cleared the fields 
and watercourses, and found themselves in the 
town once more. Ernest, unused as yet to the 
ways of Eastern cities, was startled to find the 
streets, which had been so crowded and noisy 
barely two hours before, as lonely and silent as 


62 


The Lost City ; or , 


the grave. The very echo of their steps sounded 
unnaturally loud amid that ghostly stillness, and 
the narrow, tunnel- like streets, roofed in with 
matting every here and there, and almost buried 
between the high, gloomy, windowless houses, 
which in many places all but touched each other 
overhead, were so dark that at times our heroes 
had fairly to grope their way. Every winding 
of that gloomy maze seemed to breathe an atmo- 
sphere of treachery and midnight murder; and 
even Ernest’s bold heart sank as he saw, by the 
gradual slackening of his comrade’s brisk stride, 
and his hesitating glance around at every fresh' 
turn, that Tom was as uncertain of their where- 
abouts as himself. 

Suddenly the stillness was broken by a dull, 
muffled sound like the tramp of many feet, and 
the boys had barely time to draw back into the 
shadow of a deep archway, when there swept by 
them a seemingly endless train of armed men in 
Afghan dress, whose white turbans, and colored 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia. 63 

robes, and shining musket - barrels glimmered 
spectrally through the darkness. 

“There’s mischief afoot, you bet,” whispered 
Tom, as the last man disappeared. “ Those are 
Afghan soldiers from Herat, and they wouldn’t 
sneak in after dark this way if they weren’t up 
to some mischief. Halloo ! what’s this? Hurrah ! 
here’s the garden wall of the British Residency, 
and we’ll just go right in and get Major Cava- 
gnari to give us a guide.” 

But they looked in vain along the high, earthen 
wall for any sign of a gate. Finally, Tom, getting 
impatient, bade Ernest stand close to the wall, 
scaled it by means of his companion’s shoulders, 
and then helped him in turn to the top, whence 
both dropped into the garden below. 

“ I say,” whispered Ernest, “ are you sure this 
is the Residency garden ? I don’t remember see- 
ing these thick bushes before.” 

“Nor I,” said Tom, “and it’ll be a pretty job 
if we’ve got into some Afghan fellow’s grounds 


6 4 


The Lost City; or , 


by mistake. However, we are in the scrape 
now, and we can’t turn back. At least, I don’t 
mean to. We’ll consider that we are on an 
exploring expedition, and we may find some- 
thing worth looking at. Let’s creep forward 
and see.” 

Worming their way cautiously through the 
bushes, they came suddenly upon a very unex- 
pected scene. Beyond the thicket lay a wide 
space of open ground, flanked by a large, white 
building of fantastic Eastern shape, at the door 
of which were dimly visible the tall figures and 
shining weapons of a group of native guards. In 
the centre of the clear space two Afghan soldiers 
were pacing up and down, with shouldered mus- 
kets, on either side of an open pavilion of crimson 
silk, lighted by two colored lamps. Both wore 
frayed red coats (evidently cast-off English uni- 
forms), and copied zealously what they supposed 
to be the bearing of a British sentry, holding 
their heads as stiff as a ramrod, and jerking their 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 65 

feet into the air at every step, as if kicking some 
invisible foe. 

Within the pavilion a square, thick-set fellow, 
with a frightfully scarred face, in the uniform of 
the Herat regiment which had just passed, was 
standing respectfully before a stout, broad-faced 
man in a rich dress of embroidered silk, who sat 
squatting on a pile of cushions. 

“We’re in the wrong box clearly,” muttered 
Tom, “but I must hear what they’re talking 
about, for I’m certain that there’s some plot on 
hand against us foreigners, and that this Herat 
fellow and his men are at the bottom of it.” 

So saying, he threw himself flat on the ground, 
and keeping in the shadow, crawled forward to 
the foot of the tree that overshadowed the pavil- 
ion. Finding, however, that he could only catch 
a few words of the talk, he swung himself up 
into the branches, and crept out along a project- 
ing limb. Before he knew it he found himself 
right over the tent. Ernest, who was watching 


66 


The Lost City ; or , 

him, felt liis blood run cold as be saw the nearest 
sentinel turn sharply round, and bring bis musket 
to tbe “ ready.” But just then a large bird flapped 
away from tbe tree with a hoarse scream, and 
tbe Afghan, disarmed of bis suspicions, resumed 
his measured walk. 

Tom gained nothing by his venture, for at that 
moment the Herat officer bowed, and quitted the 
tent. But he was instantly replaced by a tall 
figure in the dress of a native priest, turning to- 
wards whom the seated man displayed the low, 
slanting forehead, small, narrow eyes, and thick, 
black mustache of Yakoob Khan, the Ameer of 
Afghanistan.* 

Starting back in amazement, Tom lost his bal- 
ance, and fell down upon the tent with a tremen- 
dous crash, tearing the canopy right across, break- 
ing one of the poles, and bringing down the near- 

* My impressions of the ex-Ameer are drawn chiefly from 
my late visit to his present residence at Dehra-Dhoon, in the 
Himalaya Mountains. — D. K. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 69 

est lamp with a run. The soldiers sprang towards 
the spot, but just then a stone flung by Ernest 
knocked over the other lamp, and all was dark. 
As the boys darted into the thicket, they heard 
the shouting and stumbling of the guards min- 
gling with the yells of the sentries, who were 
scuffling together on the ground, each taking the 
other for the author of the disturbance. 

“Pity there are no newspapers here,” said Er- 
nest, as they regained the street, “ to placard all 
the walls with, ‘ Mysterious Attack on the Ameer,’ 
‘The Criminals still Undetected.’ However, all’s 
right now.” 

“ All’s wrong, you mean,” answered Tom, grave- 
ly. “Do you know who that man in the priest’s 
dress was ?” 

“ No ; who was he ?” 

u Kara- Goorg, the Persian /” 



Chapter V. 

A FIGHT BY FIRE-LIGHT. 

Colonel Hilton looked very grave over the 
story of the evening’s adventures; he looked 
graver still when he returned from being pre- 
sented to the Ameer next morning. 

“He was civil enough,” said he, as they sat 
over their mid-day meal in the curtained balcony, 
“but fine words and armed cutthroats don’t fit 
well together. The fact’s just this : the whole 
city is ready for a row, and the Ameer’s doing 
nothing to keep it down, while the priests are 
doing everything to get it up.” 

“Yes,” cried Ernest, “there was one of them 
speechifying to a crowd at the end of the street 
just now, and they were all shrieking and toss- 
ing their arms about like mad.” 



The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 71 

“ And early this morning,” added Tom, “ a sol- 
dier of the Herat regiment went swaggering past 
our door, and called out to a lot of the Cabool 
fellows who were lounging about : ‘ Ha ! you 
let yourselves be beaten by the Ugrez’ (Eng- 
lish) ‘last year; they wouldn’t have beaten us 
so easily.’ 

“ ‘ Wait a little,’ says one of the Caboolis, ‘ and 
you shall see that we can kill the unbelievers as 
well as you.’ ” ^ 

“H’m!” said Professor MakarofF. “It seems 
to me, my friends, that the best thing you can do 
is just to pack your things and come with me to- 
morrow when I tetart Jfo look for the Lost City.” 

“You forget, Pavel Petrovitch,” replied the 
Colonel, “ that we are now attached to the En- 
voy’s suite, and mustn’t go till he goes. Besides, 
I don’t suppose they would think of attacking 
a Russian mission ; it’s their game to be friends 
with Russia, now that the English are threaten- 
ing them again. It’s poor Major Cavagnari and 


72 


The Lost City ; or , 


Ills guard that they mean to butcher; but I’ll go 
and warn him this very day.” 

Colonel Hilton did so, but all in vain. The 
brave Englishman was as kind and courteous as 
ever, but nothing could persuade him to take any 
precaution against the fatal snare which every 
one saw plainly except himself. 

“ Many thanks for your kindness, Colonel Hil- 
ton, but there’s nothing to be feared from such 
curs as these. They may yelp and show their 
teeth, but they’ve not pluck enough for a fight. 
Moreover, I have been placed here by our govern- 
ment, and I need not tell an American officer that 
the last thing which should make any soldier 
quit his post is the fear of personal danger.” 

The next day Professor Makaroff, with a strong 
escort of Cossacks, three or four Afghans, and a 
Tartar guide, started on his hunt for the Lost 
City, with as jolly a smile upon his little round 
face as if he were only bound on a picnic, instead 
of a journey through one of the most perilous re- 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia. 73 

gions in all Asia. When he was gone the rest of 
the party had leisure to notice that their Afghan 
servant, Sikander, had been missing nearly two 
days. 

“That’s bad,” said the Colonel, shaking his 
head. “I can guess where he’s gone, for when 
a row of this sort once begins, it’s safe to draw 
in every Mohammedan within reach. He’s been 
true as steel all the time I’ve had him, but one 
might as well try to tame a wolf as one of these 
Afghans.” 

And now the signs of the coming storm be- 
gan to multiply on every side. All the bustling 
groups of merchants, store-keepers, porters, water- 
carriers, sellers of fruit or sherbet, that ordinarily 
crowded the streets, had vanished, and in their 
stead appeared a throng of wild faces and glit- 
tering weapons, while the air rang with cries of 
“ Death to the unbelievers !” After nightfall the 
streets seemed deserted, as usual ; but it did not 
escape Tom Hilton’s keen eye that in every dark 


74 


The Lost City ; or , 


corner several shadowy figures were lurking, as 
if awaiting some expected signal. The few Eu- 
ropean residents were never seen outside their 
closely shut houses, and even our thoughtless he- 
roes felt like men standing on the deck of a burn- 
ing powder-ship. 

So matters went until the evening of the fourth 
day after the Professor’s departure. Colonel Hil- 
ton had accompanied the Russian Envoy to the 
palace, and our two friends were together in one 
of the lower rooms, when the curtain of the door- 
way was suddenly thrown back, and the missing 
Sikander stood before them. But his plain dress 
was now replaced by the gold-fringed turban and 
snow-white robe of an Afghan chief, a jew r elled 
yataghan (sword), and a brace of silver-mounted 
pistols hung at his girdle of red silk, and his once 
grave and stolid face was all ablaze with fierce 
excitement. 

“ Sons of a noble chief,” said he, in his sonorous 
native tongue, “ hear the words of Sikander Beg. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 75 

When my enemies drove me from my own land 
your father gave me shelter. I have eaten his 
bread and salt, and his friends are the friends of 
Sikander. None will harm you here, but as ye 
love your lives stir not forth to-night.” 

The curtain fell behind him, and he was gone. 

Both lads sprang to their feet at once. There 
was no need to speak : the same thought was 
in the minds of both. In a moment they were 
wrapped in the long Afghan mantles which they 
had bought as mementos of Cabool, and within 
two minutes after being warned that it was cer- 
tain death to stir out, they were hurrying towards 
the British Residency. 

Night had already set in, and the streets 
through which they passed were completely de- 
serted, while the silence was broken only by a 
dull, distant sound, like the moan of a far-off sea. 
But they were barely half-way to the Residency 
when a strong hand grasped Ernest’s shoulder, 
and a familiar voice chuckled, hoarsely : 

5 


76 


The Lost City ; or, 


“You should always git all your men together, 
Mr. Ernest, afore you goes into haction. Wher- 
ever Captain Clairmont’s son goes, old Bill Bar- 
low goes too.” 

There was no time to argue, and a few minutes 
more brought the three to the Residency, at the 
door of which stood Major Cavagnari himself, lis- 
tening, with a look of stern gravity on his hand- 
some sun-browned face, to the distant murmur, 
which was gradually swelling into a deep hoarse 
roar. The boys told him breathlessly that the 
threatened attack had come at last, and were beg- 
ging him to come and take refuge with them 
before it was too late, when their words were 
drowned by a trampling of countless feet and the 
ear-piercing yell of the Afghan war-cry, “ Deen ! 
deen !” (the faith, the faith). They had barely 
time to spring inside and bar the heavy gate be- 
hind them when all outside it w T as one roaring 
sea of rags, dirt, knives, struggling limbs, hideous 
faces, and wolfish cries. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 77 

“ It’s too late now, my brave lads,” said Cav- 
agnari, “and I’m only sorry you should have 
risked your lives for me to no purpose. Lucidly, 
I’ve only three Englishmen here besides myself, 
so England won’t lose much by our death.” 

The fearless words were answered by a crash 
of stones against the front of the building, while 
the strong gate began to echo with the blows of 
its assailants. At the same moment a yell from 
the garden showed that the mob had scaled the 
boundary wall, and that the house was now be- 
set on every side. 

Ernest felt his pulses tingle, and the blood 
rushed through his veins like living fire, as he 
seized a rifle and hurried to his post. He seemed 
to have grown up in a single moment. Yester- 
day he was a light-hearted boy, without a thought 
beyond the present instant ; to-day he was taking 
part in events which were to change the fate of 
a kingdom and to live forever in history. In his 
excitement he hardly thought of the certain death 


7 $ 


The Lost City ; or , 


that awaited them all ; for what chance had the 
twenty-five Hindoo regulars and fifty irregulars, 
who, with the three Englishmen above mentioned, 
formed Cavagnari’s entire garrison, against the 
whole population of Cabool ? 

And now the battle began in earnest. A spat- 
tering fire of matchlocks and pistols ran through 
the crowd, lighting up their wild figures and sav- 
age faces ; and showers of stones were hurled at 
every window, while a few of the boldest, encour- 
aged by seeing no sign of resistance, closed in 
and began to batter the gate with axes and ham- 
mers. 

“ Fire !” shouted a stern voice overhead. 

The flash and crack of the volley came as the 
thunder-clap follows the lightning, and the shrieks 
and groans that rose up out of the darkness be- 
low bore fatal witness to its effect. For one mo- 
ment the wave of assault recoiled, but only to 
surge forward again. The firing was now inces- 
sant on both sides, and the doomed house stood 


HE OPPOSED HIMSELF SINOLY TO A DOZEN OF THE ENEMY. 









The Boy Explorers i?i Central Asia . 81 

out against the surrounding blackness amid a 
dancing ring of flame, when suddenly the cracks 
of the rifles and the yells of the Afghans were 
out-thundered by a tremendous roll of musketry, 
which seemed to shake the very air. 

“’Twas no raw hands that fired that volley,” 
cried Bill Barlow, who, overjoyed already at being 
once more among trained soldiers, was doubly so 
to find a disciplined force opposed to him. “ Hur- 
rah ! I never thought I’d have the luck to fight 
agin reg’lar troops any more !” 

It w^as too true. The Herat regiment had just 
joined the assailants (thus proving that the be- 
sieged could hope for no help from the Ameer), 
and with it came a new and terrible enemy. Ei- 
ther from wanton mischief or settled purpose, the 
Afghans had fired the little summer-house in the 
garden, and the flames catching the surrounding 
trees and bushes, which were dry as tinder from 
the long heat, the whole enclosure was soon one 
red and roaring blaze. 


82 


The Lost City ; or, 


Thicker and thicker rolled the smoke, hotter 
and hotter grew the air. Tom and Ernest, half 
stifled, crept out upon the balcony, hidden by the 
smoke — for the house itself was now on lire. But 
a sudden gust rent the cloud, and amid the sea 
of upturned faces below, which the blood - red 
glare threw out with ghastly clearness, they saw 
one familiar countenance turned towards them 
with a look of agony and horror, such as might 
be worn by a man who, striking at a supposed 
enemy, finds that he has killed his only son. It 
was the face of Sikander ! 

The next moment a shower of bullets drove 
them back into the burning house, and in a mo- 
mentary lull of the firing they could hear the en- 
emy bursting in below. 

“Shake hands, old boy,” said Tom; “it’s all 
up now. God bless you !” 

All that followed was like a troubled dream. 
Ernest was dimly aware of the door falling in- 
ward before a rush of shrieking Afghans, of Bill 





CARRIED AWAY TO THE MOUNTAINS. 
































































f 



















t 






















The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 85 

felling the foremost with his clubbed rifle, and 
being himself thrown down the next moment. 
He saw Tom stagger back against the wall, and 
sprang in front of him. Then he opposed him- 
self singly to a dozen of the enemy, firing his re- 
volver right in their faces. Then came a heavy 
shock, a pang of sharp pain, and all was a blank. 



Chapter VI. 

IN A ROBBER VILLAGE. 

When Ernest opened Iris eyes he hardly knew 
whether he was dreaming or awake. The dark- 
ness, the uproar, the flames, the raging mob, the 
domes and minarets of Cabool, had vanished like 
shadows, and he was lying under the shade of a 
tent, in a smooth green valley shut in by low 
hills, upon which the mid-day sun was shining in 
all its splendor. There was a bandage around 
his left arm, and another around his head, which 
ached terribly ; and altogether he felt weak and 
dizzy, as if he had just recovered from a long ill- 
ness. 

He was still gazing round him, when a well- 
known voice said : 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 87 

“Awake at last, Ernie? How do you feel 
now ?” 

Turning upon bis elbow — for lie was still too 
weak to rise — Ernest belield Tom Hilton lying 
on the other side of the tent, very pale, and with 
a strip of blood-stained linen across his forehead, 
but with the true American look of fearless self- 
reliance still bright in his sunken eyes. 

“Is that you, Tom? Where are we?” 

“Talk French, old fellow,” answered Tom, in 
that language. “ There’s always one man among 
these fellows who knows English, and he’ll be 
set to watch us, you may be sure. Poor Cava- 
gnari’s killed, and all his men, and we’re prisoners. 
Luckily the Afghans don’t know that I under- 
stand Pushtu [the language of Afghanistan], and 
I’ve gathered from their talk that they belong to 
an independent hill tribe, over which the Ameer 
has no power; and now that the fight’s done 
they’d be glad to get home at once, if we didn’t 
hinder ’em.” 


88 


The Lost City ; or , 


“ We /” echoed Ernest, amazed. “ How’s that ?” 

“ Why, it seems that half a dozen of them have 
been hired to take us alive, I suppose with the 
idea that we were somebody of consequence for 
whom they might get a big ransom. But just as 
they were slipping away with us, up came a par- 
ty of the same tribe, who stopped them short, 
and insisted upon a share of the ransom if there 
was one. It’s never very difficult for six-and- 
twenty armed men to persuade six, so at last they 
agreed to camp here, twelve miles from Cabool, 
until this mysterious ‘chief’ turns up who hired 
the fellows that took us, and then it’ll be settled 
what’s to be done with us.” 

“ Can it be Sikander who’s done it to save our 
lives ?” asked Ernest, quickly. 

“ I’m afraid not. We’d be all right in his 
hands, but he’s told me all about his own tribe, 
and these fellows don’t fit the description at all. 
However, when he comes we’ll soon see whether 
he’s Sikander or not.” 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 89 

“And this’ll be he coming now, I suppose,” 
said Ernest, as a general shout and a tramping of 
horses’ hoofs announced some new arrival in the 
camp. 

The next moment a group of horsemen rode 
into the open space within the circle of tents, 
headed by a man whose face our heroes could not 
see, but whose height and figure certainly re- 
minded them of Sikander. He leaped from his 
horse and came straight towards the tent. In an- 
other instant the prisoners saw scowling down 
upon them the lean, dark, wolfish face of their 
Persian enemy, Kara«Goorg ! 

I11 a moment the whole truth burst upon the 
unhappy boys. Kara-Goorg, while obeying the 
orders of his Russian employers — for they could 
no longer doubt that his real “mission” in Ca- 
bool was to stir up the tumult which had ended 
so fatally — had gratified his own private hatred 
by bribing the Afghans to kidnap them in the 
general confusion. Their attempt to save Cava- 


9 o 


The Lost City ; or , 


gnari had made the treacherous design easy, and 
they were now at the mercy of one to whom mer- 
cy was unknown. 

“Ha!” cried the Persian, with a mocking grin, 
speaking in English that Ernest might under- 
stand him, “ fine Master come low down now, eh ? 
How he like when he get sold for slave? how he 
like when Tartar whip him with horsewhip, and 
put out his eyes if he try run away ? What Colo- 
nel say when he hear his son wash feet of Af- 
ghan chief? Fine Master strike ‘ Persian dog ’• — 
but Persian dog turn and bite !” 

And he kicked Ernest fiercely in the side. 

Such an insult, offered by such a man, roused 
Ernest’s English blood to a pitch of fury which, 
for the moment, gave back all his lost strength. 
He sprang to his feet, and in another instant 
would have been at the throat of the Persian had 
not Tom Hilton caught his arm. 

Tom’s watchful eye had noticed several Af- 
ghans standing listening at the tent door, and 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 91 

turning to them, he addressed them in Persian — 
for even at that critical moment his American 
shrewdness warned him to conceal his knowledge 
of their native tongue. 

“ Sons of the mountain ! we are the captives of 
Afghan warriors, and the shadow of an Afghan’s 
tent should be sacred. Whose dog is this Per- 
sian coward that he should dare to lord it among 
valiant Afghans and good Mussulmans as if their 
camp were his own ? I am the son of a chief and 
a warrior, whose riches are great and whose hands 
are open ; and if I must die, let me die by the 
hands of brave Mohammedans, and not be barked 
to death by a Persian cur whose fathers were 
slaves to the slaves of your fathers.” 

Tom’s skilful allusion to the ancient hatred be- 
tween Persia and Afghanistan, and his hint about 
his father’s wealth and generosity, were not lost 
upon his hearers. A murmur of approval fol- 
lowed his words, and Kara-Goorg, who had half 
drawn his Persian dagger, with a growl of fury, 


92 


The Lost City ; or ; 


which our hero’s complimentary remarks fully 
justified, sheathed it again, and began to look 
uncomfortable. 

And well he might. Ignorant of Tom’s knowl- 
edge of Persian, he had asserted (in the belief 
that his prisoners would have no chance of con- 
tradicting him) that they were persons of inferior 
rank, whom he meant to sell for slaves as a pun- 
ishment for having affronted him. To the Af- 
ghans hired to kidnap them the story seemed per- 
fectly natural, and the moderate reward quite 
sufficient for such a service, while their comrades, 
in demanding a share of the profits, were actuated 
rather by a belief that the captives were likely 
to fetch a good price than by any suspicion of 
their real rank. 

But now the tables were turned. The kid- 
nappers learned for the first time that they had 
been cheated (and that, too, by a Persian), while 
their comjDanions discovered that the prize in 
their hands was much more valuable than they 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 93 

had supposed. Neither discovery boded good to 
Kara-Goorg’s plans, and that worthy thought it 
high time to cut the conversation short. 

“ Why should these dogs laugh at the beards 
of Afghan warriors, and make them eat dirt i n he 
cried. “ Do we not know that lies run from an 
unbeliever’s tongue like water from a burst water- 
skin, and that every rogue will boast himself a 
descendant of many princes, though in his own 
land he is but a porter or a seller of figs ? The 
sun is sinking, and I have far to go. Ho ! Badja 
[children], carry forth these sons of burned fa- 
thers, and bind them upon your horses.” 

But as his attendants outside came forward to 
obey, the Afghan chief — a handsome young giant 
of six feet three, with hair and eyes as black as 
the loose trousers of embroidered velvet which he 
wore below his snow-white tunic and crimson 
sash — haughtily waved them back. 

“Is it not said,” he observed, in a slightly 
mocking tone, u that 1 hurry belongs to Shaitaun V 


94 


The Lost City ; or , 


[the Evil One]. Why is our Persian guest in 
such haste to depart ? His words are as wise as 
those of Lokman the Sage ; but would porters or 
fruit-sellers tempt us to keep them prisoners in 
the hope of a ransom (and perhaps to kill them 
in our wrath at being balked of it), when they 
might go free at once by proclaiming who they 
are V 

The Persian’s jaw dropped at this shrewd re- 
tort, and a lurking grin flickered over the grave 
faces of the Afghan warriors. 

“That chief wasn’t born on the 1st of April — 
that’s a fact,” chuckled Tom, translating the speech 
to Ernest : “ he’s been there before.” 

“ But why not tell them at once that Sikan- 
der’s our friend ?” 

“ Not much . These hill tribes are always quar- 
relling, and Sikander may have killed this man’s 
father, for all we know. Gently’s the word.” 

Meanwhile the young chief called up one of his 
men who had served for some time among the 



HE FOUND HIMSELF RIGHT OYER THE TENT 


















The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 95 

Russians at Tashkent, and questioned Tom in his 
presence as to his father’s name, rank, friends, and 
personal appearance. Tom’s answers were frank- 
ly given, and confirmed by the Afghan soldier. 
Another man, who had picked up a little Eng- 
lish, was then sent to question Ernest, whose an- 
swers tallied exactly with those of his friend. The 
evidence against Kara-Goorg was complete. 

But the Persian was not the man to lose both 
his plunder and his revenge without resistance, 
and he resolved to try the effect of a little bully- 
ing. 

“ These prisoners are mine,” cried he, “ and I 
am not one upon whose beard every rogue may 
throw dust. Let those who wrong me dread the 
wrath of the Ameer and the vengeance of the 
Oorooso” (Russians). 

“ The shadow of the Ameer’s throne only cov- 
ers Cabool,” replied the young warrior, scornful- 
ly; “it is not long enough to reach our moun- 
tains. As for the Russians, if they want our pris- 
6 


9 8 


The Lost City ; or , 

stony, lifeless, unrelieved by tree or bush, their 
countless clefts gaping like thirsty mouths under 
the blistering glare of the sun. 

All this was seen through the one narrow gate- 
way or rather gap in one of those huge gray walls 
of dried mud, twenty-five or thirty feet high, so 
common in Central Asia. This wall, which was 
nearly circular, enclosed a considerable space, over 
which were scattered broadcast, without any at- 
tempt at arrangement, a number of little box- 
shaped clay hovels, with flat roofs and low, nar- 
row door-ways. In the midst of these the Afghan 
band were just dismounting from their horses, 
while a score or so of women in long blue man- 
tles, the folds of which almost hid their faces, 
were unsaddling and rubbing down the beasts, 
or lighting fires to cook the evening meal. Alto- 
gether, what with the glittering arms and pranc- 
ing horses, the strange dresses and swarthy vis- 
ages of those present, the huge dark wall in the 
background, and the bright blue sky over all, 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 99 


this robber village made a very effective but sin- 
gular picture. 

Half a dozen children, brown and shaggy as 
forest monkeys, had already come scrambling out 
to meet their fathers, and one grim old warrior, 
whose scarred features looked just like a railway 
map, was dandling a little round-faced baby on 
his brawny shoulder. 

“ See that old boy petting the baby,” cried Er- 
nest. “ He must be a good sort anyhow ” 

“Must he?” said Tom, with a queer smile. 
“Do you know what I heard him say just now? 
‘ These two Christian dogs shot my brother in 
the fight at Cabool, and the first chance I get I 
mean to kill them both.’ ” 



Chapter VII. 

AN AFGHAN GAME OF FORFEITS. 

Happily for our two friends, the old Afghan’s 
kind intentions respecting them had to remain 
unfulfilled for the present. Such a prize did not 
fall into the hands of the tribe every day, and 
Ahmed Khan was as careful of his prisoners as if 
they had been his own children while awaiting 
the return of the messenger whom he had sent to 
Cabool to treat with Colonel Hilton for their 
ransom. 

Meanwhile their strength revived in the pure 
mountain air, and their wounds, which, though 
severe, were not dangerous, healed rapidly. With- 
in the stronghold they were allowed to walk 
about as they pleased, for the gate- way was al- 
ways guarded, and the wall too high to be scaled. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . ioi 

Indeed, even if they could have climbed it, they 
would have gained little, for on all sides but one 
it overhung a sheer precipice of nearly a hundred 
feet. 

Even within these narrow limits, however, the 
boys found plenty to amuse them. The very first 
day their dinner consisted of a dish quite new to 
both — 'a real Afghan “pillau,” made of a lamb 
roasted whole, with the wool on, the entire inside 
being taken out, and the carcass stuffed with rice, 
plums, raisins, and spices. On the same evening 
Tom’s attention was attracted by a great shout- 
ing and laughing in one corner of the camp, which 
proceeded from a troop of children who were 
playing the old Afghan game of “ guarding the 
shoe.” A shoe is laid .on the ground, and de- 
fended by one side, while the other tries to carry 
it off. All the players hop on one foot while 
holding up the other with the left hand, and any 
one who falls or puts down the upheld foot be- 
comes a prisoner to the opposite party. Tom and 


102 


The Lost City ; or , 


Ernest, always ready for fun, joined in on differ- 
ent sides, and before the game ended were the 
best of frieuds, not only with the children, but 
also with their fathers, who were greatly amused 
to see their national game so well played by two 
foreign “ unbelievers.” 

But all the band were not equally friendly to 
our heroes, whose presence seemed grievously to 
offend the elder Afghans, among whom the na- 
tional hatred of “ the yellow-faced English ” was 
far greater than among the younger and more un- 
thinking men who had formed the escort of Ah- 
med Khan. Foremost among those hostile to 
them was old Selim, the old man who had vowed 
their death in revenge for their having killed his 
brother; and as day after day passed without 
bringing any news of the ransom or of the Af- 
ghan sent to arrange it, Selim and his party lost 
no chance of declaring that the “ Christian dogs” 
had imposed upon the chief with a lying tale, and 
ought to be put to death forthwith. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 103 

Thus matters stood, when one evening Selim’s 
baby, which seemed in no way to share its fa- 
ther’s hatred towards the two boys, who made a 
great pet of it, was playing on a heap of rubbish 
in an angle of the wall. Tom Hilton had just 
caught sight of it, and was running towards it, 
when suddenly he saw a large spotted snake glide 
out of a cleft in the wall, with an angry hiss, 
close behind the unconscious child. 

With one bound Tom was between the ser- 
pent and its intended victim, just in time to re- 
ceive the prong-like fang in the fleshy part of his 
outstretched hand. The next moment he had the 
snake by the throat, and with one blow of a heavy 
stone pounded the flat, slimy head into a shape- 
less mass. Meanwhile the cries of the frightened 
infant had drawn several Afghans to the spot, in- 
cluding Selim himself, who, the moment he saw 
what had happened, snatched up his child and 
rushed away with it like a madman to his own 
hut. 


104 


The Lost City; or , 


Tom’s hurt was promptly looked at by a hatch- 
et-faced old gray-beard with one eye, who acted 
as surgeon to the band. This learned gentleman 
began by holding a lighted stick* to the pin-like 
wound, from which flowed a thick black gout of 
venom, followed by drops of blood. The doctor 
then sucked the wound, and ended by applying 
to it a root which he had previously chewed into 
a pulp. Whether from the strength of the medi- 
cine or the weakness of the poison, Tom felt no 
further inconvenience except a slight inflamma- 
tion of the hurt hand. 

Just as the dressing was completed, old Selim, 
having at length assured himself that his child 
was unharmed, came back as hurriedly as he had 
gone away. 

“Christian,” said he, “I vowed to make thy fa- 
ther childless, and lo! thou hast saved me from 
being childless myself. When thou hast need of 


* The same remedy is used by the African Hottentots. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 105 

auglit that a man can do, think upon Selim the 
son of Yakoob,” 

But although Tom’s chief enemy was thus con- 
verted into a friend, his other ill-wishers were as 
bitter as ever, and it was perhaps as well for the 
prisoners that their foes had just then something 
more serious to think of. For now came rumors 
that the English were marching upon Cabool to 
avenge the massacre, and that detachments of 
their troops had already been seen among the 
hills above Jelalabad. 

Such a chance of fighting and plunder was too 
good to be lost, and one morning at sunrise Ah- 
med Khan, with a fillet of white linen inscribed 
with a text of the Koran wound round his sword- 
arm to give him strength in battle, rode out with 
forty of his best men. According to Afghan 
usage, a turban was unrolled and stretched across 
the gateway as a charm against evil ; but by some 
mischance one end of it came loose, and fluttered 
down upon the young chief as he rode beneath it. 


io6 The Lost City ; or , 

At this evil omen the Afghans grew pale, and 
old Selim, who was left in charge of the camp, 
implored his chief to turn back. 

“ What is to be will be,” answered the Mussul- 
man. “ If I am fated to die, who can escape des- 
tiny? Come what may, my sword shall not be 
slack.” 

And away he went like a whirlwind. 

A week passed without any news from him or 
his followers. At length, on the seventh evening, 
a solitary horseman was seen coming up the hill, 
haggard, ghastly, his gay dress all torn and soiled 
with dust and blood. 

Instantly the whole band were around him, 
and a score of trembling voices asked what had 
befallen. 

u There is but one God, and Mohammed is His 
prophet,” said the Afghan, in a hollow voice. 
“The soul of Ahmed Khan is in the gardens of 
Behesht ” [paradise], “ but his body is food for 
the vultures of the mountain. The unbelievers’ 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 107 

steel is red with the blood of our brothers, and I 
alone am escaped to tell it.” 

For an instant it seemed as if the dreadful ti- 
dings had turned to stone all who heard them, 
and then there broke forth a yell like the cry of 
a wounded tiger. 

“Well may all go ill with us,” roared a fierce- 
looking warrior, “ when we suffer these unbeliev- 
ing dogs to live among us. Upon them, brothers, 
and slay without mercy !” 

In a moment every sword was out, and the sav- 
ages came yelling around the two prisoners, who, 
thinking that all was over, looked round in des- 
peration for some weapon that might aid them 
to sell their lives as dearly as possible. 

But they were not left unfriended. Selim, who 
at the news of the chief’s death had sunk down 
as if overwhelmed, threw himself with one bound 
between the boys and their assailants, and stood 
grimly facing the howling throng, with his terri- 
ble yataghan flashing over his head. 


io8 The Lost City ; or , 

“Stand back!” shouted he, in a voice of thun- 
der. “ Would ye kill him who saved my child? 
Let one man of you lift a hand, and he shall feel 
how Selim’s sword can bite !” 

The savages hung back for a moment, and Se- 
lim, giving them no time to rally, went on in a 
commanding tone : 

“Are you quarrelling like women when the 
enemy is at your gates? Yusuf, Ali, Hussein, 
ride down the valley; perchance ye may meet 
others of our brethren who have escaped from the 
battle. The rest of you load your guns and sad- 
dle your horses; and do thou, Mahmoud, climb 
the wall, and watch if there be any sign of the 
English unbelievers marching this way.” 

This last suggestion startled even the reckless 
Afghans, who obeyed without a word. The four 
fiercest of the gang being thus got rid of, and the 
rest too busy with their horses and arms to think 
of anything else, the doomed lads had a short 
breathing-time, and looked around them in the 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 109 

hope of being able to fly. But a brawny Afghan 
was sitting on the ladder with which Mahmoud 
had scaled the wall, and half a dozen others were 
cleaning their guns in the gate-way ; so there was 
nothing for it but to await the end of a respite 
which they knew could not be long. 

And so it proved. No signal being given of 
the English approach, the human tigers gathered 
once more around Selim, clamoring for the blood 
of the captives. Selim saw that to resist would 
only cause an immediate conflict, in which he and 
the three or four men who supported him (for 
nearly all the friendly Afghans had perished with 
their chief) would have no chance of saving the 
prisoners, and he resolved to try a stratagem. 

“ Brothers,” cried he, “ why should true believ- 
ers quarrel about foreign infidels ? If it be their 
fate to fall by your swords, it can be soon decided. 
Let us have a game at 4 Pasha Wuzeeree,’ and he 
who becomes L W uzeer ’ shall decide their des- 
tiny.” 


I IO 


The Lost City ; or , 


This proposal was received with a shout of ap- 
proval by the Afghans, who, hasty and capricious 
as children, were delighted with the novel idea 
of deciding the fate of their captives by their fa- 
vorite game. 

“Pasha Wuzeeree” somewhat resembles our 
own game of “ forfeits,” differing from it, however, 
in being played with dice. It is regulated by 
three casts — viz., “Ameer” (King), “Wuzeer” 
(Prime-minister), and “ Ghal ” (thief). The fourth 
throw (farmer) counts for nothing. The players 
go on casting until one throws King and another 
Minister, before which no throw is allowed to 
count. When both are placed, the next who 
throws “thief” is seized by the Minister, who 
leads him up to the King, saying, “I’ve caught 
a thief.” The King asks, “ What has he done ?” 
and the Minister makes some absurd answer, such 
as “He has stolen his sister’s coat,” or “He has 
plucked a horse’s feathers off.” The King then 
sentences the culprit to some punishment as ab- 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 1 1 1 

surd as Ins supposed crime, and so the game pro- 
ceeds, with great shouting and laughter over ev- 
ery fresh forfeit. 

As if on purpose to tantalize those whose doom 
hung upon it, the game on this occasion moved 
unusually slowly. It was long before any one 
threw King, and still longer before the cast of 
Minister came. But at length Selim threw Min- 
ister. 

The old warrior’s face brightened, it being his 
plan to sentence the next man who cast “thief” 
to guard the prisoners with his life; and the 
“ King ” being one of his own party, was quite 
ready to assist the scheme. But fortune was 
against him. The very next throw w^as “ King,” 
and the rules of the game obliged the existing 
King to yield his place to the new one, while in 
another moment a new Minister ousted Selim, 
who bit his lip savagely as he gave up his place. 

“I’ve caught a thief!” cried the Minister, seiz- 
ing a man who had just thrown “ thief.” 

7 


I 12 


The Lost City ; or , 


“ What lias he done ?” 

“ Spared the lives of two unbelievers.” 

“ Let him take his sword, then, and kill them 
both.” 

Selim attempted to spring up, but stumbled 
and fell. The Afghan seized his sword with the 
intention of making his forfeit good, but before 
the blow could fall there came a sudden and 
startling interruption. 




Chapter VIII. 

THE VALLEY OF DEATH. 

All the time this game of life and death was 
going on, Mahmoud had never stirred from his 
watch-tower upon the wall; and just at that mo- 
ment he sent forth the long, shrill cry which was 
the well-known signal of danger, following it up 
by shouting: 

“The Goorkhas, brothers! the Goorkhas!” 

At the name of these mountaineers of Nepaul, 
the fiercest and most dreaded of all the Hindoo 
troops in the British service, everything else was 
forgotten in a moment. All was confusion, which 
was increased tenfold as the three scouts sent 
down the valley came galloping in, with full con- 
firmation of Mahmoud’s evil tidings. To attempt 


The Lost City ; or , 


114 

any defence of such a wide circuit of wall with 
their scanty force, against disciplined soldiers, was 
hopeless; and Selim, who alone of the whole 
band seemed to preserve his presence of mind, 
gave orders for the mounting of the women and 
children upon the strongest horses, and the in- 
stant abandonment of the stronghold. 

Meanwhile our heroes began to hope that they 
might be overlooked in the general confusion; 
but they were promptly undeceived by hearing 
the Afghan who had already been so active 
against them, remarking that “ it was now time 
to kill the two unbelievers.” 

“ Wilt thou be always a father of asses ?” cried 
Selim, whose cunning brain had already planned 
how to use this new turn of events to his own 
advantage. “Know you not that if you shed 
their blood, the English will kill our people in 
like manner; whereas, if we keep them as host- 
ages, we may hereafter give them in exchange 
for our brethren who are in captivity? Let the 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 1 15 

Feringhi [European] youths write that as the 
English deal with their prisoners, so will we deal 
with ours, and it shall be left at the gate for those 
who come to read.” 

This new view of the case quite took the Af- 
ghans by surprise, and all agreed that Selim’s 
plan was excellent. Tom Hilton, whose hands 
were loosed for the purpose, wrote the required 
message with a piece of charcoal on a strip of 
white linen, which was then fastened in a con- 
spicuous place just outside the gate- way. But 
his American smartness prompted him to turn 
the Afghans’ ignorance of English to account by 
adding a postscript for the benefit of any British 
officers who might be with the Goorkhas, tell- 
ing the route by which they were to cross the 
mountains in their retreat — a measure which 
was to lead to consequences of which Tom never 
dreamed. 

And now began a march such as our heroes 
had hitherto known only through books of trav- 


The Lost City ; or , 


1 1 6 

el. All around, the barren, gloomy ridges stood 
up black and blasted and hideous, crossing and 
recrossing each other in every direction like the 
threads of a spider’s web, and seeming to form 
one horrid complicated trap for every living thing 
once entangled in it. Through this dismal maze 
they zigzagged as best they might, now along 
ledge- paths barely three feet wide, now among 
fallen bowlders as high as the roof of a cottage, 
now over heaps of crumbling earth, from which 
rose at every step clouds of hot, prickly dust that 
well-nigh choked them. 

During the first day our two lads went on foot 
with the rest, the horses being reserved for the 
women, children, and older men. But the less- 
seasoned Ernest soon began to give way under 
this terrible strain, and Tom, for some wise pur- 
pose of his own, pretended to be equally ex- 
hausted. So, on the second morning, Selim dis- 
mounted one of his own men and put the two 
boys upon the horse, with the perfect approval 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 1 1 7 

of the band, who were now fully alive to the 
value of their hostages. 

“ Ernie,” said Tom that night, speaking French, 
as usual, “ here’s a glorious chance for us. I heard 
them say there are signs of a fog, and if it comes 
they won’t be able to see us two yards off.” 

“ But what good will that do?” 

“Everything ! To-morrow we’ll pass a place 
that I’ve heard Sikander describe many a time — 
the 1 Valley of Death,’ where you go along a path 
no broader than a tea-tray, with three hundred 
feet of precipice below, and overhead a great 
black cliff full of cracks and clefts, like that place 
half-way down from Jerusalem to Jericho. Now, 
you see, they leave our feet and hands free, and 
this scarf with which they tie us together is a 
trashy old thing, which one good tug ought to 
settle. If the fog comes, we’ll wait till we get 
out on to the ledge, and the minute you hear me 
scream we’ll tumble off on the side next the cliff, 
push the horse over the precipice, so that they 


ii 8 


The Lost City ; or, 

may think we’ve all gone down together, and then 
creep into one of the holes and hide till they’re 
gone. What do you say ?” 

“I’ll do it,” said Ernest, setting his teeth; 
“ but can’t we manage it without killing the poor 
old horse ?” 

“No; he must go; for then, don’t you see, 
they’ll think we’ve fallen over along with him, 
and not make any hunt for us. Now go to sleep 
while you can, old fellow, for you’ll have enough 
to do to-morrow if the fog comes.” 

The fog did come, sure enough; and by the 
time they reached the perilous ledge -path that 
overhung the terrible “ Valley of Death,” day was 
literally turned into night. But frightful as was 
the risk of such a passage in such weather, the 
Afghans durst not hang back, for they were now 
in the territory of a hostile clan, and the lives of 
the whole party might depend upon their getting 
across it as quickly as possible to the friendly 
tribes beyond. The horses had been shod with 



THE POOR HORSE FELL HEADLONG DOWN THE PRECIPICE 








I . 



The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 12 1 

felt, and the perfectly noiseless passage of this 
long train of shadowy horsemen along the brink 
of that fearful precipice, through the gray, sullen 
mist, had in it something indescribably weird and 
ghostly. In that dead silence the excited boys 
could almost hear the loud throbbing of their 
own hearts. 

Suddenly Tom Hilton set up a terrific shriek, 
which made every horse in the cavalcade start 
and rear. Instantly both lads were off their 
beast, the scarf that bound them was torn asun- 
der, and as the poor horse fell headlong down the 
precipice, with a piercing cry, they wriggled into 
a narrow cleft, and were hidden from view. 



Chapter IX. 

LOST ON THE MOUNTAINS. 

“ So far, so good !” muttered Tom Hilton, as 
the wild cries of the Afghans died away in the 
distance. “Their horses have taken fright, and 
they’ll have quite enough to do to manage them.” 

“ I am sorry for that poor horse, though,” said 
Ernest. “ But what are we to do now ?” 

“Take the back track, to be sure, and find our 
way down into the valley by the same way that 
we came up. Those Goorkhas can’t be far off, 
and once we sight them we’re all right.” 

Tom spoke as confidently as if the thing were 
already half done, and his cheeriness communi- 
cated itself to his companion, whose fatigue 
seemed quite forgotten in the delight of being 
free once more. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 123 

But, as those who have marched through Af- 
ghanistan know to their cost, it is easier to find 
one’s way through the most pathless forests of 
Brazil, or over the widest prairies of the far West, 
than amid the fatal net-work of mountains that 
reaches in one endless maze from the source of the 
Cabool River to the frontier of Kashgar. So long 
as the ledge -path continued, indeed, they could 
not easily miss their way, there being not footing 
enough for a cat anywhere beyond its two or 
three feet of rocky surface. But it came to an 
end as suddenly as if the earth had swallowed it, 
and to the bewildered eyes of the wanderers the 
whole country seemed one endless succession of 
fathomless gulfs and unscalable precipices, among 
which they looked in vain for any trace of the 
way by which they had come. They were lost! 

The two young explorers eyed each other in 
silent dismay as the fearful truth burst upon 
them; but even in this crisis Tom Hilton was 
ready with an idea. 


124 


The Lost City ; or , 

“ If we can’t find our way back, Ernie, there’s 
something else we can do, which is better than 
staying here and starving, anyhow. This is just 
the time when the Afghans mostly come down 
from the higher mountains, and we’re likely 
enough to fall in with some of them. Now, I 
heard Selim say yesterday that all the people of 
this district are special enemies of his tribe ; so it 
seems to me that if we tell them we’ve just es- 
caped from Selim’s crowd, and give them the 
news of Ahmed Khan and all his men having 
been killed, they’ll feel like giving us a good re- 
ception. Anyhow, I guess it’s worth trying.” 

Ernest agreed that it was, and having discov- 
ered a goat track that led away to the left among 
the crags, they proceeded to follow it. 

Suddenly Tom stopped short, held up his fin- 
ger warningly, and crept forward to the edge of 
a projecting crag that flanked their path to the 
right, Ernest silently following. 

Although a faint glow still lingered on the 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 125 

liill-top, all below was already wrapped in deep 
shadow; but just at the foot of the cliff over which 
they were peering, the gloom was broken by the 
glare of a huge fire, around which several tents 
were pitched, while a number of figures in Af- 
ghan dress could be seen constantly passing and 
repassing. 

“ I say,” whispered Tom, “ this is a case of ‘ out 
of the frying-pan into the fire.’ These fellows are 
Selim’s tribe too ; I know them by the color of 
their turbans and the shape of their tents.” 

“ But not the party we’ve escaped from, sure- 
ly?” 

“ No ; they’re too numerous for that ; they must 
be a war band out raiding, and a pretty strong 
one, too, or they wouldn’t camp on the enemy’s 
ground in this free-and-easy way. Now I vote 
we just wait till they’re all asleep, and then go 
down and get hold of some food and a couple of 
guns, for when once we have arms and ammuni- 
tion we can forage for ourselves.” 


126 


The Lost City ; or , 


Unhappily the Afghans seemed in no hurry to 
go to bed, and it was not until the boys were both 
almost benumbed with the raw chillness of the 
night air, which made itself felt even through the 
thick Afghan mantles given them by their late 
guardians, that Tom at length gave the word to 
descend. 

The descent was almost as sheer as the side of 
a house, and had not the firelight shown them 
where to plant their feet, they must certainly have 
been dashed to pieces. Even as it was, Ernest 
twice escaped, as’ if by a miracle, from falling head- 
long to the bottom, and when they at length 
reached the ground below, both were so exhaust- 
ed that they could hardly stand. 

Luckily their descent had been perfectly noise- 
less, and the keenest eye could not have detected 
their figures amid the black shadows of the rocks. 
But the first glance showed them, to their no 
small dismay, that their difficulties were only be- 
ginning. Beckless as the Afghans were, they had 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 127 

not forgotten that they were on hostile ground, 
and. the fire-glow played upon the tall figure of a 
sentinel, who stood leaning upon the sickle-shaped 
butt-end of his long rifle not twenty yards from 
the spot where they lay. 

It was, indeed, as Tom Hilton had said, “out of 
the frying-pan into the fire but the daring young 
American was not easily disheartened. Profiting 
by his experience in the Ameer’s garden, he low- 
ered himself into a deep trench scooped by the 
torrent which had once poured through the cleft 
by which they had descended, and crawled along 
it until he reached the tents, closely followed by 
his comrade. 

Finding all quiet, the boys cautiously left the 
trench, and keeping well in the shadow, proceed- 
ed to help themselves. Tom seized a goat-skin 
bag full of wheaten bread and dried fruit, while 
Ernest Clairmont slung over his shoulder a half- 
devoured joint of goat. The latter then clutched 
a gun that lay beside a slumbering warrior, while 


128 


The Lost City ; or , 

Tom Hilton, seeing a splendid rifle hanging with 
its ammunition pouch across the door of the near- 
est tent, crept up and seized it. 

In doing so, however, he came within the cir- 
cle of light cast by the fire, and the sentinel’s 
eye was instantly upon him. The native mantle 
might have disarmed suspicion, but his fair skin 
betrayed him at once. Uttering a hoarse cry of 
rage, the Afghan levelled his rifle. But just then 
something glittered behind him, and with one 
convulsive spring he fell heavily upon his face, 
his gun going off harmlessly in the fall. 

The next moment came a yell that awoke all 
the echoes of the silent mountains, and out of the 
darkness broke a wave of fierce faces and glitter- 
ing weapons, sweeping right down into the camp. 
Then rose on high a wild clamor of rage and 
alarm, as the half- awakened sleepers sprang up 
and seized whatever weapon came first to hand. 
In a moment the whole camp was in one whirl of 
hand-to-hand battle, blows raining at hap-hazard 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 129 

amid the darkness, and pistols and rifles flashing 
through the gloom like summer lightnings, death 
coming no one knew whence or how. 

Meanwhile the boys, unnoticed in the confu- 
sion, had got clear of the camp, and were scram- 
bling across the river-bed beyond it, in which the 
long drought had left only a tiny stream trickling 
through the centre of a wide waste of sand and 
gravel. But along the farther bank stretched a 
belt of thick, wiry scrub, dense enough to screen 
them from every eye ; and they were hurrying 
towards it when a terrific clamor from behind 
told them that the beaten Afghans were fleeing 
in the same direction, while their pursuers, fol- 
lowing close at their heels, were cutting down 
man after man. 

There was no time to lose. The boys dashed 
through the water and over the pebbles, and had 
just gained the top of the bank when a deep 
booming sound shook the air, followed by a deaf- 
ening crash, and an inky-black torrent came rush- 
8 


130 


The Lost City ; or , 


in g and roaring down the dry channel, sweeping 
away like leaves the whole crowd of combatants, 
whose livid faces stood out spectrally in the ris- 
ing moonlight for one moment before the swirl- 
ing foam closed over them. 

“ Poor fellows !” said Ernest ; “ I wish we could 
save some of them. Thank God it didn’t come a 
minute sooner ! Ha ! what’s that ?” 

It was a solitary horseman, struggling in mid- 
stream. A high gravel bank had saved him for 
the moment, but it was fast giving way, and an- 
other instant must seal his doom. Just then a 
ray of moonlight struck full upon his face, and 
the boys recognized Sikander ! 





Chapter X. 

SIKANDER’S NEWS. 

“ Turn round !” roared Tom Hilton, recovering 
from his momentary stupor. “The rock! the 
rock!” 

The brave Afghan, cool as ever in that deadly 
peril, heard and understood. One rapid glance 
over his shoulder, and then, just as the gravel 
gave way beneath him, he turned his horse’s head 
and set it straight at a huge sloping bowlder, 
nearly six feet broad by as many high at the up- 
per end, which lay a little behind him. The 
swirl of the current was tremendous, and horse 
and rider almost disappeared in the boiling foam; 
but they rose again instantly, and another mo- 
ment saw them safe upon the rock. 


i3 2 


The Lost City ; or , 


By this time the fury of the flood was begin- 
ning to subside. No longer pent up between the 
cliffs whence it had issued, it had spread itself 
over so wide a space as to lose much of its force 
and volume. In the softer soil near the camp it 
had already ploughed a deep channel, through 
which it was rushing so fiercely that Sikander 
had evidently no chance of crossing there . But 
the farther bank, high, shelving, and stony, soon 
shallowed the stream on that side so much that 
Sikander, having given his spent horse time to 
rest and breathe, found little difficulty in reach- 
ing the spot where the boys were standing. 

A cordial greeting passed between the three 
friends so strangely reunited, and our heroes hast- 
ened to offer Sikander a share of their provisions, 
which they had not yet found leisure to touch. 
The Afghan, who was quite as hungry as them- 
selves, readily assented ; and there, in the heart 
of the lonely mountains, with the cold moon look- 
ing down upon them, and the rushing torrent at 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 133 

their feet, the three wanderers made a hearty 
meal. 

“Noble Aghas” [gentlemen], said Sikander, 
when they had finished, “ since God, the all-mer- 
ciful, hath brought us together once more, let ns 
not linger here. Such of my poor lads as the 
flood has spared must be far away by this time, 
and the river will be impassable on that side for 
at least three days to come. Hear me! They 
who feed their flocks beyond these hills are my 
friends and brothers ; wherefore let ns hasten to 
sit under the shadow of their tents. My horse 
will bear ye both with ease, and I will lead him 
by the bridle.” 

But the boys objecting to this, it was agreed that 
they should ride by turns, and away they went. 

On the way Sikander told them sundry frag- 
ments of news which considerably astonished them. 
They now learned for the first time that Cabool 
was again occupied by the British, the Ameer a 
prisoner in their hands, and Cavagnari’s murder 


134 


The Lost City ; or , 

being avenged by numerous executions. From 
these events he turned to others that interested 
them even more. Immediately on learning that 
they were still alive (which he heard from one 
of his own men, who had seen them borne off by 
Ahmed Khan’s band) he had gathered his war- 
riors and started in pursuit, accompanied by Colo- 
nel Hilton. The Colonel, however, had been 
struck down at the very outset by a fever result- 
ing from over- fatigue and distress of mind, and 
was now lying in the British lines near Cabool — 
“watched night and day,” added Sikander, “by 
my old comrade, the English soldier whom you 
call Bill.” 

“What? isn’t he dead, after all?” cried Er- 
nest, when this was translated to him. “Hurrah 
for old Bill !” 

Sikander proceeded to relate how he had found 
Ahmed Khan’s stronghold occupied by a Goor- 
kha detachment, the English leader of which, in 
reply to his questions, had produced the written 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 135 

message left there by Tom. Sikander had set off 
at once in the direction indicated, but he had fol- 
lowed by mistake the trail of another party of 
the same tribe — an error resulting in the night 
attack which had come so opportunely to save 
our two heroes. 

“And Professor Makaroff ? — do you know any- 
thing of him ?” 

“ He who sought the Lost City ? Evil has 
come to him, as to all who seek it On our march 
we met one of the Afghan hunters who were 
with him, and he told us that the Cabool guide 
led them astray among the hills of the Bolor- 
Dagh ” [the range bordering Afghanistan on the 
north-east], “ where the men of the mountain fell 
upon them and slew many of them, and scattered 
the rest ; but whether the Russian himself were 
living or dead he could not say.” 

“ I’ll be bound that Persian rogue, Kara-Goorg, 
had a hand in that, as he has in everything that’s 
bad,” growled Tom. 


136 The Lost City ; or , 

“Kara-Goorg! The day after the fight he 
went to the Russian Ambassador, and said he 
had paid some men to take you away and keep 
you safe until all was quiet again, but that the 
Afghans had taken you from them by force ; and 
the Ambassador gave him great praise, and sent 
him on a mission to some of the chiefs of the 
north. Perchance I may meet him there, and 
then — ” A clutch of his sword-hilt completed 
the sentence. 

Day was just breaking when they turned the 
corner of a huge cliff, and saw before them a for- 
tress, similar to that of Ahmed Khan, standing 
in the midst of a green valley. The boys were 
surprised to see so many sheep feeding around 
the wall, but they afterwards learned that the 
mountain Afghans preserve their sheep for the 
sake of their milk, and live on goat’s flesh instead 
of mutton. 

Several figures were already moving about, and 
Sikander hailed them with a peculiar cry, which 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 137 

was instantly answered. A few moments later 
the Afghan was being warmly greeted by his old 
friends, while Tom and Ernest, who, now that all 
danger was over, could hardly keep their eyes 
open from fatigue, were led away into the fort, 
and made as comfortable as its resources per- 
mitted. 

Tom’s first thought on waking was to commu- 
nicate with his father as quickly as possible. 
With a sheet of white bark, and a soft red stone 
ground into a point, he managed to write a few 
lines, which Sikander sent off at once by one of 
the tribe disguised as a pilgrim, with the assur- 
ance of a large reward if he delivered it safely. 

And now for the next four or five days our he- 
roes enjoyed a perfect holiday after all their trou- 
bles. They learned to drink ewe milk, which 
they thought a little too sweet just at first, and 
to eat goat’s flesh, which inspired Ernest with a 
joke about “ Billygoatawney soup.” They stud- 
ied Afghan cookery, and even practised it in the 


133 


The Lost City ; or , 


queer little native ovens, which consist merely of 
a hole scooped in the earth, and sheltered from 
the wind by two or three piled-up stones. 

When evening came, Tom’s recital of his ad- 
ventures eclipsed every other Tcessehgou (story- 
teller) in the camp, the mountaineers being in 
raptures at the defeat of their enemies, and the 
way in which the boys had outwitted and es- 
caped them. Finally both lads made such brill- 
iant scores in a shooting-match that the old chief 
himself complimented them by saying that their 
father must be a famous robber to have trained 
them so well. 

This characteristic praise was aptly followed 
by the ceremony which they witnessed that even- 
ing. A warrior led up his infant son, who was 
just old enough to run alone, to a hovel, in the 
clay wall of which a small hole had been cut. 
Through this hole the father made his child creep 
to and fro, while the by-standers shouted in full 
chorus, “ Ghal shah !” (be a thief). 


THIEF !” 













The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 14 1 

“I suppose that’s the Afghan way of saying, 
c Be a good boy,’ ” said Tom to Ernest, as they 
stood watching. “ Fancy some careful American 
father apprenticing his son to a thief, and com- 
manding him to be faithful and industrious, and 
do credit to his profession !” 

“It is a queer country, certainly,” answered 
Ernest, “ where a thief’s held in honor, and a la- 
boring-man looked down upon as a disgrace to 
his family. It just reminds me of that old fellow 
in Homer who thought Telemachus such a fine, 
gentlemanly-looking man that he must be a pi- 
rate.” 

The next morning in came Sikander’s raiders, 
who had at length succeeded in crossing the 
swollen river in quest of their missing chief. 
Their coming was the signal for a grand feast, 
after which Sikander announced that as one day 
would suffice to rest the party, they might all 
start for Cabool on the second morning following. 

Here, then, our heroes’ adventures might have 


142 


The Lost City ; or , 


ended, this strong escort being an ample security 
against every danger. But in an evil hour they 
recollected that they had not yet tried their skill 
upon the wild goats of the surrounding hills; 
and such a chance of tracking down the shyest 
game in Afghanistan, and requiting the kind- 
ness of their hosts by providing them with some 
fresh meat, was too good to be lost. 

“ When once we get back,” said Tom Hilton, 
“ there’ll be an end of our adventures, so we may 
just as well have one more before starting ” 

That “ one more ” did it all. 




Chapter XI. 

THE LOST CITY. 

With the first gleam of daylight the next 
morning the boys were afoot, and soon left the 
valley and its encampment far behind them, 
plunging deeper and deeper into the heart of the 
mountains. Their usual good -fortune appeared 
still to attend them, for in little more than half 
an hour from the start they caught sight of a 
bristly black head and a pair of huge curled 
horns rising from the crest of a projecting crag 
overhead. 

“ Ernie,” whispered Tom, “ creep round to the 
left and try to draw a bead on him. I’ll go to 
the right. Be as quiet as a mouse, for he’s a fel- 
low worth having.” 


144 


The Lost City ; or , 

He was indeed. As Tom crept nearer, and got 
a fuller view of his game, he could hardly re- 
strain a cry of admiration at sight of the magnifi- 
cent creature, larger by one-half than any that he 
had yet seen. 

Already Tom was just within range, when the 
crash of a falling stone, dislodged by his left foot, 
startled the goat, which darted away like light- 
ning. Tom fired, but the animal bounded on un- 
harmed. The next moment, however, came an 
answering shot from the other side of the cliff, 
followed by a shout of triumph from Ernest. 

“ I’ve hit him !” cried he. “ Hurry up, Tom. 
I’m sure he can’t go far.” 

The goat had sprung across the chasm separat- 
ing the crag on which he had been standing from 
the main cliff, and was now flying along a kind 
of ledge upon the side of the latter. But here he 
was at a disadvantage, for the path was covered 
with soft earth that had slid down from above, 
into which his sharp, narrow hoofs sank deeply 


TOM WAS JUST WITHIN RANGE. 



























































































The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 147 

at every bound, while the boys, with their flat, 
broad -soled Afghan sandals, got over it easily. 
They gained rapidly upon their game, and might 
have shot it with ease, but unluckily neither had 
had time to reload. 

“ I don’t care !” cried Tom, savagely ; “ I’ll have 
him yet, if I follow him to China !” 

Hardly had he spoken when the goat drew it- 
self together, and went sliding down a descent so 
steep that at any other moment Tom would have 
thought twice about trying it. But now his 
blood was thoroughly up, and away he went, Er- 
nest following. 

The goat having reached the ground below, 
started off at a pace which seemed likely to baffle 
the young hunters after all. But his speed soon 
slackened, and it was plain that the wound given 
him by Ernest was beginning to tell. 

“ Hurrah !” cried Tom, “ he’s running right into 
a trap. We’ve got him now, safe enough !” 

The frightened animal had indeed rushed head- 


148 


The Lost City ; or , 


long into a deep, narrow gully between two per- 
pendicular cliffs, from which there was no outlet. 
The boys at once began to reload, while the goat, 
finding himself hemmed in, turned fiercely to bay, 
his great black head lowered threateningly, his 
terrible horns levelled for a decisive blow, and 
his eyes darting fire. 

“What a splendid beast he is!” said Tom, ad- 
miringly. “I almost wish now that we hadn’t 
meddled with him at all ; but we’d better finish 
him at once than let him bleed to death from his 
wound. Here goes !” 

His rifle cracked as he spoke, and the goat, 
with one convulsive spring, lay dead before them. 

“Well hit!” cried Ernest. “ There’s meat suf- 
ficient there to feed twenty men ; and when we 
get back — ” 

“ Well, what then ?” asked Tom, turning round 
in amazement at his companion’s sudden pause. 

“ Are you sure, old fellow,” said Ernest, grave- 
ly, “ that we can get back ?” 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 149 

Tom started, and glanced keenly around him. 

What place could this be into which they had 
penetrated so easily, but from which there was 
no return ? All around the vast circular basin in 
which they stood, black frowning precipices tow- 
ered up grim and vast, upon whose perpendicu- 
lar sides not even a chamois could have found 
footing. The gullies that branched off on every 
side only increased their misery by a delusive 
semblance of hope, all appearing to lead out of 
the fatal gorge, yet all ending abruptly at the 
foot of some unscalable precipice. 

“We seem to have quite a genius for losing 
our way,” said Tom, forcing a laugh; “but we 
can always go back to that place where we slid 
down, and climb up there.” 

Back they went, and sprang up the steep in- 
cline with all the briskness of revived hope, only 
to come sliding down again instantly, half buried 
in crumbling earth. Again and again they flung 
themselves upward, clutching and clawing at the 
9 


150 The Lost City ; or , 

treacherous surface with feverish energy. It was 
all in vain. As well might they have striven to 
find foothold upon running water as on this liq- 
uid soil, which poured down in streams at every 
touch. At length, bruised, spent, half-stifled, drip- 
ping with heat, they desisted from the hopeless 
effort. 

“ Well,” said Tom at length, “if we are lost, 
we needn’t be starved too. There’s meat enough 
on that goat to last us for a week, and Sikander’s 
bound to find us before that. Come and help fix 
him for dinner.” 

The goat was quickly skinned, several large 
“chunks” cut from his side, and a fire having 
been kindled by flashing a charge of powder into 
the armful of fuel cut from a neighboring clump 
of thorn -bushes, our castaw r ays cooked and ate 
with a will. 

“First-chop stuff,” said Ernest, finishing his 
third slice; “but I wish we had something to 
wash it down with. I’m as thirsty as a Broad- 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia. 15 1 

way car-horse in July, and these jolly old rocks 
don’t look like having much water in them. How- 
ever, let’s see.” 

But in jumping up he stumbled and fell sprawl- 
ing among the bushes behind him. Tom was just 
beginning to laugh at this style of commencing 
the search, when Ernest cried, excitedly, 

“ Tom, come and look here !” 

Tom did so, and started as if he had been 
stung. The brier clump, already thinned by their 
chopping, had given way altogether beneath Er- 
nest’s weight, and disclosed a smooth round open- 
ing faced with hewn stone. 

Both boys stood silent for a moment, and then 
Tom said : 

“ Ernie, there have been men here before, and 
where one can get in another can get out. This 
must be an old water conduit, and we’ll just creep 
through it. Come along.” 

The passage was so low that they were forced 
to crawl on their breasts, and the thick, close air 


!52 


The Lost City ; or , 


seemed like a hand clutching their throats. Wrig- 
gling along in the darkness, Ernest shuddered at 
every contact with the .slimy wall (taking it for 
the touch of a snake), and thought dismally of 
the possibility of their sticking fast in this hide- 
ous tunnel, and dying by a slow and horrible 
death. Just then Tom’s voice reached his ears, 
harsh and hollow as if coming from the depths of 
the earth : 

“ Eight, Ernie ! — light ahead !” 

The boys redoubled their efforts, and soon 
emerged into a scene which made them forget 
even the thirst that was torturing them. Through 
the heart of the mighty cliffs that rose hundreds 
of feet on either side ran a wide roadway straight 
and smooth as a railway cutting, and coming out 
a little way ahead of them into a vast circular 
space, overshadowed by a sharp peak behind it. 
In the centre of this space stood clearly out a 
snow-white row of tall, slender columns, of which 
any Greek sculptor might have been justly proud, 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 153 

while behind appeared the crumbling remains of 
other and lighter buildings. 

But just then the sparkle of a tiny stream 
among the fallen stones blotted out every other 
thought till they had plunged their hot faces into 
it and drunk their fill. 

“ Ernie,” whispered Tom at length, as they rose 
to look around them, “it’s my belief that we’ve 
found the Professor’s ‘ Lost City.’ ” 

“ But didn’t that Tartar say it was in the Tien- 
Shan ?” 

“ Pooh ! a Tartar’s geography is never first- 
rate; and, besides, here’s all that he described — 
the open space, with the big building in front, 
the straight- cut roadway, the sharp mountain- 
peak, and — Hark ! what’s that ?” 

“ It must be Sikander and his men coming to 
look for us,” said Ernest, as voices were heard. 

u Or somebody else and his men coming to 
murder us. We’d better just lie low till we see 
who they are.” 


154 


The Lost City ; or , 


They scrambled up the net -work of creepers 
twined around the nearest pillar, and had just 
time to conceal themselves behind the cornice 
above, when a dozen tall, gaunt, wild -looking 
men in tattered goat- skins and huge felt caps, 
with long guns on their shoulders, came gliding 
into the ruins, and halted in the very colonnade 
over which our heroes were perched. 




Chapter XII. 

A BAD FIX. 

“ Behold our caravanserai /” (resting-place) 
cried a big, hook-nosed fellow, with a coarse, un- 
inviting face, who seemed to be the leader of the 
gang. “ Here will we take our ease until they 
come.” 

“ It is well spoken, Issa,” answered one of the 
others ; “ and when they come, rich will be our 
booty. Assuredly this is a fortunate day !” 

Tom Hilton with difficulty repressed a start 
that would have betrayed him at once. Although 
these unexpected visitors wore the dress of the 
country, their language and accent showed them 
to be Persians ; and our hero’s thoughts flew at 
once to his Persian enemy, Kara - Goorg, whose 


156 The Lost City ; or , 

presence in these northern mountains he had al- 
ready learned from Sikander Beg. That Kara- 
Goorg was not himself among the band Tom saw 
with considerable relief; but, under the circum- 
stances, it was only natural to conclude that he 
must have become aware of their presence in like 
manner, and have sent these ruffians to track 
them down and kidnap them again. 

“It just serves me right!” groaned Tom, re- 
penting of his rashness when it was too late. “ If 
I hadn’t been fool enough to come out on this 
hunt, we’d have been off to Cabool to-morrow 
with Sikander. Now here we are in a pretty bad 
fix, and I can’t see any way out of it.” 

The “ bad fix ” soon became worse, for the Per- 
sians now kindled a fire, and the smoke well-nigh 
stifled our unfortunate heroes, who could barely 
keep down the violent bursts of sneezing which 
threatened them. Even as it was, Tom’s blood 
ran cold as he heard the smothered coughs which 
Ernest let off from time to time; but happily the 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 157 

robbers were too busy with their dinner to notice 
them. 

“Is this Oorooss [Russian] for whom we are 
waiting, in very deed a great magician?” asked 
one. 

“What words are these, Ali?” cried another. 
“ Must he not be a greater magician than Lok- 
man, to come safely out of the den of that lion- 
killer, Saadut Khan of Mahmoud Tepe [Moham- 
med’s Mound], and then to venture hither with 
but a single guide ?” 

Tom breathed freely again for a moment, for 
the last words showed him that he and Ernest 
were not the game which these human blood- 
hounds were tracking down. But he instantly 
bethought himself that the only Russian whom 
they could be expecting amid the ruins of the 
Lost City was Makar off himself ; and he resolved 
to save the poor old Professor, cost what it might. 

But how was this to be done ? 

“ Our chief has said that his ransom will be as 


The Lost City ; or , 


158 

the ransom of a king,” cried Ali. “ Who is he, 
then, that his life should be so precious?” 

“Know you not, then, brother,” rejoined his 
comrade Abdullah, “that the Feringhi [Euro- 
pean] magicians have the power of finding hid- 
den treasures? Wherefore should this Russian 
be in such haste to reach this place if not to dis- 
cover treasures buried here by Sikander Rumi 
[Alexander the Great], the mighty Sultan of the 
Feringhis?” 

“ But how escaped he those blood-drinkers at 
Mahmoud Tepe ?” asked another. “ Tell us, Issa, 
for thou wert there.” 

“ Hear, then,” replied Issa. “ When they led 
him before the Khan, Saadut wondered greatly 
to see him so small and feeble, for he had been a 
very Rustam* in the fight, and had killed five of 
the warriors before they bore him down. But 
the Russian looked at him as haughtily as if he 


* The national hero of Persia, famed for his strength. 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 159 

were but a mender of carpets, and said, ‘ Afghan, 
thou hast done ill to fall thus upon a stranger 
who came to thy tents in peace. I seek no harm 
to thee or thine ; I seek but the Lost City of the 
Greek Sultans ; and if thou wilt free me, and send 
thy warriors to carry me thither in safety, all 
shall be well, but if not, know that within three 
days there shall come to pass that which will 
make thee and all thy tribe tremble.’ ” 

Here the speaker paused impressively, while a 
murmur of astonishment broke from his hearers. 

“ Then,” resumed he, “ came a. silence deep as 
that of the desert at midnight, for till then no 
man had ever dared to speak thus to such a slayer 
of men as Saadut Khan. At last the Khan said, 
1 Let thy words be proved. If thou hast spoken 
truth thou shalt be set free with honor ; if thou 
hast lied, on the third day thou shalt die.’ ” 

“ 1 Good !’ exclaimed the listeners. 

“The third day came,” pursued Issa, “and still 
all was well, and the Khan asked, scornfully, 


160 The Lost City ; or , 

‘ Where are thy threats now?’ But the Russian 
pointed upward, and answered, solemnly, 4 Even 
now is the time come.’ And, low ! even as he 
spoke the noonday sun hid his face, and all was 
dark as if Azrael, the Angel of Death, had spread 
his wings over the sky ; and all the warriors fell 
on their faces, and the Khan himself tore his 
beard in dismay, and offered the magician what- 
ever he might ask if he would but bring back 
the light once more. 

“ Then the magician spoke again, and the light 
came back, and the warriors kissed his feet, and 
the Khan sent him forth the next day with rich 
presents, guarded by swordsmen, who bowed be- 
fore him as if he had been our holy Prophet him- 
self Brothers, my tale is ended.” 

Tom was bursting with laughter at the awe- 
stricken faces of the listeners ; for he saw at once 
how the wily Russian had turned to account a 
total eclipse of the sun announced for that day 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 161 

by the scientific journals. The next words, how- 
ever, made him serious enough. 

“Tell me, Issa, if this Kussian is so great a 
magician, how did he not perceive that our chief 
was setting a trap for him in offering to guide 
him instead of the guide who was slain ?” 

“In what ox-stall wert thou born?” retorted 
Issa. “ Knowest thou not, son of a witless father, 
that when any magician has done a mighty deed 
he is exhausted of his magic for a season, as a ser- 
pent of its venom when it has struck, and for a 
time he hath no more power than another man ? 
In a fortunate hour did our chief meet with 
him, for when he brings him hither alone he 
is ours.” 

“ Alone ?” echoed Ali. “ And the Khan’s war- 
riors ?” 

“ They will await the Eussian’s return in the 
valley below ; they dare not enter these unsainted 
ruins.” 

This last remark was unlucky, as reminding 


162 


The Lost City ; or , 


the Persians (already excited by Issa’s startling 
tale) of the unearthly terrors ascribed to the dis- 
mal place they were in. 

"True,” cried Abdullah; "this spot must in- 
deed have an evil name if Afghan robbers fear 
to enter it.” 

" And we are laying wait here for a magician !” 
added Ali, gloomily. “ What if he have power 
to call forth the spirits to seize us !” 

"Let us shift our camp lower down,” said a 
third, tremulously. " Once, in Khorassan, some 
Koords camped in an old ruin despite all warn- 
ing, and at midnight came a fearful thunder-clap, 
and the earth opened, and — ” 

Just then Tom, suddenly inspired with a brill- 
iant idea, flung his large powder-horn with sure 
aim right into the fire. An explosion, sharp and 
stunning as any thunder-clap, scattered the burn- 
ing brands on every side, and sent sprawling the 
whole band of terrified robbers, who sprang up 
instantly, despite their burns and bruises, and 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 163 

fled down the pass with yells of terror. And 
then our heroes descended from their perch, and 
laughed till all the mountain echoes ha-ha’d in 
chorus. 




Chapter XIII. 

WHAT WAS WRITTEN ON THE PILLAR. 

“ Well done, Tom !” cried Ernest, ceasing at 
last from sheer exhaustion ; “ you scared ’em fine- 
ly that time ! Fancy the poor old Professor com- 
ing innocently into such a horrid trap ! But we’ve 
saved him, anyhow !” 

“Twelve guns,” counted the practical Tom, 
reckoning up the spoils left on the field, “five 
provision bags, three scarfs, seven daggers, and 
any amount of ammunition. Well, I think I’ve 
invested that powder-horn rather well, and got 
very good interest on it.” 

“ Won’t it be fun to see how foolish that rogue 
of a guide will look when he gives the signal for 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 165 

his chums to jump out and collar the Professor, 
and we jump out and collar him instead ! We’ll 
give it him, won’t we, Tom ?” 

“We will ! And now let’s look about us a bit, 
for one don’t see a place like this every day.” 

“Wait a minute,” cried Ernest: “I’ve got a 
grand idea. Let’s cut our names on this pillar in 
Greek letters, like an old inscription ; and then, 
when the Professor comes up and goes to read it, 
he’ll be rather startled, I fancy.” 

The names were soon carved, and smeared with 
earth to give them an antiquated look, after 
which they set out to explore the ruins. It was 
certainly a wonderful sight to behold all these 
marvels of civilization in the depths of this sav- 
age wilderness, now peopled only by fierce beasts 
and men fiercer still. Although the marble foun- 
tains had long run dry, the group of flower- 
crowned nymphs carved around them were beau- 
tiful as ever, and the graceful figures painted 
along the walls seemed as if the artist had only 
10 


i66 


The Lost City; or , 

just completed them. In one house which had 
been almost destroyed by a falling bowlder, Er- 
nest found a tiny bust of a child uninjured amid 
the surrounding wreck, while Tom picked up sev- 
eral coins, for each of which a collector would 
gladly have given fifty dollars. 

But everywhere reigned a dreary and awful 
silence, beneath which even the buoyant spirits 
of our young adventurers w T ere weighed down 
as if by a nightmare. The ghostly impression 
haunted their evening camp-fire, and interwove 
itself with their dreams ; and when Tom, awak- 
ing with a start from his first sleep, saw the cold 
moon playing fitfully on the gapped walls and 
broken columns of this city of the dead, he felt 
something as nearly akin to fear as his stout 
American heart could feel. 

Towards morning the fire burned out, and our 
heroes awoke, very cold, very stiff, and (if it must 
be owned) rather cross. But they soon fell asleep 
again, and the sun had risen before they were 




GAME OF FORFEITS. \Page 108 . 





The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 167 

aroused by a familiar voice beside them, saying 
in Russian : 

“This is undoubtedly the Lost City, and an 
extremely fine specimen of later Greek architect- 
ure. How Baranoff and Tchelovitski will envy 
my good - fortune in being the actual discoverer 
of this magnificent relic! And here, I declare, 
is a Greek inscription, doubtless of considerable 
antiquarian value.” 

Tom nudged Ernest, who bit his lips to keep 
down his laughter, as the Professor began to de- 
cipher the “ inscription ” which their knives had 
left on the pillar a few hours before. Meanwhile, 
the guide (who was a tall, sallow man, in the 
rough sheep -skin cloak and high, shapeless felt 
cap of a Kashgarin) gave a sudden shrill cry like 
the scream of a vulture, and looked so blank at 
finding it unanswered that the boys could hardly 
keep from laughing aloud. 

“ Thomas Hilton, Ernest Clairmont,” cried Pro- 
fessor Makaroff, rubbing his eyes with an air of 


1 68 The Lost City ; or ; 

bewilderment. “ What can this mean ? there are 
no such words in Greek !” 

The guide, thinking that his accomplices might 
not have heard the call, repeated it, and this time 
with a result which he little expected. The boys 
at once issued from their hiding-place, crying, 

“ Good-morning, Mr. Professor; glad to see you 
again !” 

The Professor looked startled, as well he might, 
but the guide seemed actually turned to stone. 
His dark face grew livid with terror, while his 
quivering lips hissed rather than spoke the words, 

“ Ali ! it is they !” 

“ Kara-Goorg !” roared Tom, for whom the Per- 
sian exclamation and the voice that uttered it 
were quite enough. “ You villain ! this shall be 
your last treachery !” 

He extended his arm to seize the Persian, but 
Kara-Goorg dashed it aside, and darted down the 
pass like an arrow. Seizing his gun, Tom sent a 
bullet after him to hasten his steps. In his blind 


GOOD-MORNING, MR. PROFESSOR J GLAD TO SEE YOU AGAIN 























* v 

































The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 171 

terror the Persian did not see that right in his 
path lay a deep pit half filled with crumbling 
masonry. Stumbling over its edge, he fell head- 
long into it, while the huge stones dislodged 
by his fall came thundering after, crushing the 
wretched traitor out of all semblance of life. 

Little remains to be told. By the time our 
three explorers reached Cabool, Colonel Hilton 
was almost well again, and they left for Tashkent 
just in time to escape the desperate battles that 
preceded the blockade of the British army in its 
camp at Shirpur. It afterwards appeared that 
Kara-Goorg, in the course of his mission among 
the northern chiefs, reached Mahmoud Tepe just 
as its Khan was about to free MakarofF in defer- 
ence to his supposed powers as a magician, and 
instantly formed the plan of acting as his guide 
(which his own perfect disguise and the Profess- 
or’s ignorance of his person made easy), and then, 
by betraying him into the hands of his confeder- 


1J2 The Lost City ; or ; 

ates, to share whatever ransom the Russian gov- 
ernment might give for its ablest scientist. 

The discovery of the Lost City made consider- 
able stir in the learned circles of St. Petersburg, 
and -was described at length by more than one 
scientific journal. Professor Makaroff insisted 
upon giving up to Tom and Ernest, despite their 
protest, the reward promised to the finder of 
these famous remains, contenting himself with 
the honor of being the first to describe and ex- 
plain them. It is said that he has never quite 
forgiven the Lost City for being found two hun- 
dred miles south of the spot where he had located 
it ; but the Order of St. Vladimir from the Czar’s 
own hand has somewhat consoled him. 

Bill Barlow’s health has begun to give way in 
consequence of his wounds, and he is about to be 
sent for a holiday to Northern India, where he 
will probably be visited shortly by Ernest Clair- 
mont, who is to join his regiment in the Punjab 
next spring. He will be esccfrted as far as the 


The Boy Explorers in Central Asia . 173 

British frontier by his friend Sikander Beg, who 
is now more powerful than ever, the tribe of Ah- 
med Khan having been almost annihilated in the 
attack upon General Roberts, and Selim himself 
having fallen at their head. As for Tom Hilton 
(who has been the “ lion ” of Gashkent ever since 
his return from Cabool), we may perhaps meet 
him again, amid scenes even more exciting. 


THE END. 





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Making. By W. Hamilton Gibson, Author of “Pastoral Days.” 
Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 00. 

DAVIS’S NIMROD OF THE SEA. Nimrod of the Sea; or, The 
American Whaleman. By William M. Davis. With many Illus- 
trations. 12mo, Cloth, $2 00. 

REID’S ODD PEOPLE. Odd People: being a Popular Description of 
Singular Races of Man. By Captain Mayne Reid. With Illustra- 
tions. 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents. 


Interesting Books for Young People. 


5 


FRIENDS WORTH KNOWING. Glimpses of American Natural 
History By Ernest Ingersoll. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00. 

PAUL B. DU CHAILLU’S WORKS ON AFRICA. Five Volumes. 
Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50 each. 

THE COUNTRY OF THE DWARFS. HY APINGI KINGDOM. 
WILD LIFE UNDER THE EQUATOR. LOST IN THE JUNGLE. 
STORIES OF THE GORILLA COUNTRY. 

ROUND THE WORLD; including a Residence in Victoria, and a 
Journey by Rail across North America. By a Boy. Edited by 
Samuel Smiles. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50. 

THE SELF-HELP SERIES. By S. Smiles. 12mo, Cloth, $1 00 each. 
SELF-HELP. CHARACTER. THRIFT. DUTY. 

STORIES OF INVENTORS AND DISCOVERERS in Science and 
the Useful Arts. By John Timbs. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50. 

THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS; or, The Arabian Nights’ 
Entertainments. Translated and Arranged for Family Reading by 
E. W. Lane. 600 Illustrations. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3 50. 

OUR CHILDREN’S SONGS. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $1 00. 

FAMOUS LONDON MERCHANTS. A Book for Boys. By H. R. 
Fox Boukne. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00. 

PRAIRIE AND FOREST. A Description of the Game of North 
America, with Personal Adventures in their Pursuit. By Parker 
Gillmore. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50. 

PUSS-CAT MEW, and Other New Fairy Stories for my Children. By 
E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25. 

FAIRY TALES OF ALL NATIONS. By Edouard Laboulaye. 
Translated by Mary L. Booth. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, Bevelled 
Edges, $2 00; Gilt Edges, $2 50. 


6 


Interesting Books for Young People. 


JACOB ABBOTT’S WORKS. 

SCIENCE FOR THE YOUNG. Illustrated. 4 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $ 1 50 each. 
HEAT. WATER AND LAND. 

LIGHT. FORCE. 


FRANCONIA STORIES. 
MALLEYILLE. 
MARY BELL. 
ELLEN LINN. 


Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents each. 
WALLACE. MARY ERSKINE. 

BEECHNUT. RODOLPHUS. 

STUYYESANT. CAROLINE. 

AGNES. 


LITTLE LEARNER SERIES. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents each. 
LEARNING TO TALK. LEARNING ABOUT COMMON THINGS. 
LEARNING TO THINK, LEARNING ABOUT RIGHT AND WRONG. 
LEARNING TO READ. 


MARCO PAUL SERIES. Marco Paul’s Yoyages and Travels in the Pur- 
suit of Knowledge. Hlustrated. 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents each. 

IN NEW YORK. IN VERMONT. 

ON THE ERIE CANAL. IN BOSTON. 

IN THE FORESTS OF MAINE. AT THE SPRINGFIELD ARMORY. 

RAINBOW AND LUCKY SERIES. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents each. 
HANDIE. THE THREE PINES. 

RAINBOW’S JOURNEY. SELLING LUCKY. 

UP THE RIVER. 

YOUNG CHRISTIAN SERIES. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75 each. 

THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. THE WAY TO DO GOOD. 

THE CORNER STONE. HOARYHEAD AND M‘DONNER. 

THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. A Memorial Volume. With a Sketch of the 
Author by one of his Sons. Steel-Plate Portrait of the Author, and Wood- 
cuts. 12mo, Cloth, $2 00. 


Interesting Books for Young People. 


7 


ABBOTTS’ (JACOB AND J. S. C.) BIOGRAPHICAL HISTORIES. 
Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00 per volume. 


CYRUS THE GREAT. 

DARIUS THE GREAT. 
XERXES. 

ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 
ROMULUS. 

HANNIBAL. 

PYRRHUS. 

JULIUS CAESAR. 
CLEOPATRA. 

NERO. 

ALFRED THE GREAT. 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
RICHARD I. 

RICHARD II. 

RICHARD III. 

MARGARET OF ANJOU. 


MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
CHARLES I. 

CHARLES II. 

HERNANDO CORTEZ. 
HENRY IV. 

LOUIS XIV. 

MARIA ANTOINETTE. 
MADAME ROLAND. 
JOSEPHINE. 

JOSEPH BONAPARTE. 
HORTENSE. 

LOUIS PHILIPPE. 
GENGHIS KHAN. 

KING PHILIP. 

PETER THE GREAT. 


JOHN BONNER’S CHILD’S HISTORIES. 

CHILD’S HISTORY OF GREECE. Illustrated. 2 vols., 16mo, Cloth, $2 50. 

CHILD’S HISTORY OF ROME. Illustrated. 2 vols., 16mo, Cloth, $2 50. 

CHILD’S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES. New Edition, Revised, 
and brought down to the Close of the Rebellion. Illustrated. 3 vols., 
16mo, Cloth, $3 76. 

THE STORY OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY, for Boys. By 
Benson J. Lossing. Illustrated. 12mo, Half Leather, $1 75. 

FRENCH HISTORY FOR ENGLISH CHILDREN. By Sarah 
Brook. With Illustrations and Colored Maps. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00. 

CHILD’S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By Charles Dickens. IlluS' 
trated. 2 vols. in one, 16mo, Half Leather, 60 cents. 


8 


Interesting Books for Young People. 


THE HISTORY OF SANDFORD AND MERTON. By Thomas Day. 
18mo, Half Bound, 75 cents. 

THE HISTORY OF A MOUTHFUL OF BREAD, and its Effect on 
the Organization of Men and Animals. By Jean Mace. Translated 
by Mrs. Alfred Gatty. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75. 

THE SERVANTS OF THE STOMACH. By Jean Mace. Reprinted 
from the London Edition, Revised and Corrected. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75. 

HOME FAIRY TALES. By Jean Mace. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 
$1 75. 

YOUTH’S HEALTH-BOOK. 32mo, Paper, 25 cents; Cloth, 40 cents. 

STORIES OF THE OLD DOMINION. From the Settlement to the 
End of the Revolution. By John Esten Cooke. Illustrated. 12mo, 
Cloth, $1 50. 

FRED MARKHAM IN RUSSIA; or, The Boy Travellers in the Land 
of the Czar. By W. H. G. Kingston. Illustrated. Small 4to, Cloth, 
75 cents. 

SELF-MADE MEN. By Charles C. B. Seymour. Many Portraits. 
12mo, Cloth, $1 75. 

ROBINSON CRUSOE, of York, Mariner; with a Biography of Defoe. 
Illustrated. Complete Edition. 12mo, Cloth, $1 00. 

THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. Illustrated. 2 vols., 18mo, 
Cloth, $1 50. 

THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON— Continued: being a Sequel to 
the Foregoing. 2 vols., 18mo, Cloth, $1 50. 

THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. By John Bunyan. With a Life of 
the Author, by Robert Southey. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50. 


Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 

S ^~ Harper & Brothers will send any of the above works by mail, postage prepaid , to any 
part of the United States, on receipt of the price. 














































































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